#37 Museum Street

[edoardozolloitalian]

Supporting Italians in London: The Role of Italian Psychologists Psicologi Italian psychologists a London represent a growing community of mental health professionals. By offering consultancy, therapy and psychological support services, they help support the large Italian community in the British capital. Their presence promotes the mental and cultural well-being of Italians living abroad, facilitating adaptation and personal growth. For more details

Visit here:-> https://ed-counselling.co.uk/

[k-hippie]

CHAMPIGNAC : A NEW SIMS 3 WORLD

Champignac is a fully living Frenchy suburbia World based on Champs-les-Sims and has nothing to do with a vacation place ... Well, nothing is not really the right word ;)

Back in 2016/2017, when we began to think how we could remade Champs-les-Sims, we didn't know really what kind of world we wanted to do. We named the project : Sims de Nimes. Then, because we were on other projects ( such as sims 4 k-mods ) we left Sims de Nimes somewhere in the pipes.

We made Oaksoak Hollow ( based on Mystic Falls ), we made Eureka Valley ( a world between tech and classic life ) and we left behind the Sims 4 because, well ... too long to explain. :D

So, it was time to get out of the box our old project of Sims de Nimes ... During this time, some talented creators re-made Champs-les-Sims with their own vision, more oldy or more city life like, or more like Sunset Valley ... All those versions are interesting, but we wanted something else. And so, is born Champignac !

If Champignac is a true living suburbia world, it is too a quite rural world, almost a village with :

37 Community Lots

36 Residential Lots

10 Medieval Towers all around the town :)

:)

In addition, it remains few Empty Lots, differently sized to suit whatever you wish ... So, let's say Champignac is a french-not-so-little-town where life is slowly flowing and dynamic at the same time, perfect for families and Sims looking for a different lifestyle :)

A typical downtown and outskirts, full of old buildings and southern architecture, a joyful mix between south-east and south-west housing, with a touch of something more northener ( but don't tell the citizens; it's a sure way to be frowned upon ) ... After all they worked hard to keep Champignac as it is!

People living in Champignac are quite glad of it. Sure, teenagers dream of foreign lands, but they are not too eager to leave.

Once, the townies of Champignac were grumpy because Champs-les-Sims was so more popular than their hometown ... After all, everybody went to Champs-les-Sims, stayed there, made nectar, drove a Kenspa, flirted with locals, or … anyway! Tourists had a full experience in Champs-Les-Sims and weren't interested in visiting any other city. Champignac, the official twin city, didn't benefit from any international exchanges, and was left anonymous, far from fame and glory. As unreachable as the Eiffel Tower seen from Champignac ... until ...

In February 29th of a certain year, a distant descendant of Marquis de Landgraab lost his way on the road to Champs-les-Sims and landed in Champignac. Instantly, he fell in love with the town.

He saw an always growing vegetation, a Monastery full of secrets, the familial beach ( yes, there is a beach in Champignac ), the forgotten obelisk, the shop keepers full of stories, the well preserved houses, the green fields and the paved streets, the true Café Catane and a remaining wild fauna running here and there ... He saw perfection !

For a time, the townies of Champignac experienced fame and glory. But how exhausting it was! Tourists not really caring about the legacy of the kiosk owner, the monks overwhelmed, the museum director who couldn't find enough teenagers to help ... Even the fishes were exhausted! Hard times indeed ... Happily, this descendant of Marquis de Landgraab met someone, somewhere, and moved out, far far away from Champignac. Celebrities said their last goodbyes and slowly, life, as it should be, was back :) The townies and City Council learned from that experience that they very much preferred not to be as famous as Champs-les-Sims ...

Life in Champignac was relatively calm again when suddenly, a global health crisis emerged and the Simvid-18 pandemic hit many many people ... Anxiety swept through the villages and the small towns, including Champignac of course ... With an aging population, residents became increasingly concerned about the well-being of their neighbors and the future of the city.

Shop owners and farmers who were already considering retirement were now faced with the daunting task of deciding whether to continue their businesses in such uncertain times. The entire world seemed to come to a halt, leaving everyone in Champignac wondering who would carry the torch and ensure the future.

Surprisingly, the youngsters that only came sporadically for holidays, moved back to Champignac. Fearful of living in a crowded city and eager to gather with family members, they came to the old town with friends. After all, there were spare bedrooms in most houses!

When the restrictions were lifted, many were reluctant to leave. Going back to a stressful life and fast-paced city wasn't enticing anymore. Most decided to turn their lives around. They took up the florist shop or asked for a job transfer ... So, life emerged again :) Champignac is now a thriving town where you have everything you wish for and nothing more.

Champignac is blessed with old churches turned into bars or wineries, old palazzi that are inspiring, and small boutiques as gathering places ...

Winters and autumns are short, while spring and summer are long. Come and live among thousands of old buildings, walk on streets Roman soldiers once trod upon, see treasures from foreign campaigns, and benefit from the perfect blend of country living and town living.

Remember ... With its unique blend of history, culture, and natural beauty, Champignac offers the Sims a captivating and enriching experience. From the stunning architecture to the delectable cuisine, every aspect of this town reflects the South of France’s intoxicating charm.

Are you ready to move in Champignac ?

blackgryffin \o/

IMPORTANT : We advice STRONGLY to begin with the half-populated SavaGame provided in addition to the World itself ...

DO NOT FORGET to download the CC of Champignac we provide on our website too ! for more information, see the 2 posts below ;)

Have fun !

DOWNLOAD HERE

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 12th November ✨

I’ve LOVED everything that’s touched my ears this week. Going to start this round up with a brand new instant favourite 🧡

🧳 Travelling Light (1) we all knew that whatever @monstrousproductions ’s next venture was, it would be bloody brilliant but Travelling Light is so far up my street, it’s parked in my drive. I LOVE wholesome sci-fi and this show promises to be that and more. I can’t wait for the next episode! 🥰


👁️ @malevolentcast (37) we’re on a farm! and it’s bloody horrible!!! Poor Oscar, man. If God did bring him to Arthur then God has a funny little sense of humour.

🌒 @monkeymanproductions I finally found time to listen to the Jaxon bonus episode and it was so lovely 🥺 I love the pair of them so much and it was so nice learn more about the past while hearing their plans for the future! I also can’t wait to hear the next one!!

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum UNCERTAIN. Unlike the head of retrieval, I am a big fan of time travel shit and it was done in such a fun way in this episode. The security issue has become even more of a mystery!! Part of me can’t wait to get to the bottom of it and part of me doesn’t want the show to end 😅

🧛‍♂️ @re-dracula It’s over!! I never would have made it through the dailies without this wonderful audio experience. A huge congrats to the cast and crew for all their hard work!!

🐬 @patterspod I listened to the glow while cycling into work yesterday and it was great but it sure set me up in a strange mood for the day ahead

🌨️ HELL YEAH @thewhitevault (2). Let’s explore how humans contribute to the horrors. This whole situation in the woods is horrifying and one of my absolute favourite things about this show is how natural the acting is, it’s all too believable and it makes it so much scarier.

Hope everyone has had a good week!! I’m planning on trying to finish Wolf 359 next week… I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready!!

[whyareyouhere66]

(Loki anon here I’m sorry I’m still in my fixation and I love ur writing 😭)

Loki x son reader were Loki wasn’t in reader’s life very often and reader slowly grows to hate him for it. But reader ends up going through the same path Loki did by terrorizing Earth/trying to rule it to show he can be better and stronger than his father. I can’t decide how it would end- like reader gets imprisoned after Loki tries to stop him or like, they talk and make up?? Idk😭

(Loving that the only plots I can come up with are full of daddy issues LMAO)

You’re so real for that bro-

never be sorry you’re amazing

I hate being late on requests, I don’t know if you’re still in the Loki fixation I’m really late but I hope you enjoy either way <3 

DNA - !Father! Loki x Male Reader

CW: Loki was kinda a shit dad, mentions of guns in beginning, timeline may not be 100% canon, lazy proof read, long

X

Chaos tumbles in the streets, shouts echoing  from the crowds. 

Ruckus in a small town, built into a crevice in the mountain, it’s far too easy to cause havoc on its streets.

People are rushing to see what has happened at the small museum just down the street to the various neighborhoods, though get pulled away when they see the people running the opposite way. Half aren’t even sure what they’re running from.

The front doors to the museums walls burst open suddenly, a tall figure strutting out of the frame. 

Y/n Odinson, in all his grace.

A few gasps come from the witnesses, eyes widening upon seeing the man. The before untouched museum now holds shattered windows, it looks broken. 

A few spikes of glass crunch under Y/n’s boots, a trail of shards gathered around the door. It takes another moment for people to see the pendant swinging from his clenched fist.

“Stop, now!” The first officer to arrive at the scene, holding a gun in front of him. Just a minute too late, he’s running to catch up. 

A second one appears behind him a moment later, but doesn’t chase, instead crouches behind the hood of his car and points his own gun towards Y/n’s clenched fist.

“We’ll shoot!” He shouts, hearing the sirens of backup following behind. Y/n doesn’t flinch. 

“That doesn’t sound too smart,” The man speaks nonchalantly, further frustrating the cops behind him, “but if you must, I suggest now.” There’s a sly grin on his face when he looks at them over his shoulder. 

So, they do.

A bang pierces the air, and suddenly a bullet is flying. Y/n knows it’s headed his way, but it’s too late anyways. For he was gone the second the trigger was pulled- puffed away with nothing but an imprint of dirt and blue fog left behind. 

People look around, confused.

He’s escaped, and he holds another piece with him. 

***

Y/n Odinson

10:37 pm 

In the dark room, I notice there’s few sources of light for me to work with. 

The window, the clock, and the lamp just to the right of me. 

Even as it becomes later and later into the night, I’m still sitting here, hunched over this damn desk with two of the same  things placed in front of me- one being the necklace stolen mere hours prior. 

Its jewels reflect in the light of the lamp, red and green jewels lining a silver chain. It shines the brightest compared to the dusty old book beside it.

I continue to stare at it, before a frustrated groan rumbles out of my already sore throat. 

“This isn’t going anywhere…” I mumble bitterly. 

I grab the book, pages squished between the leather cover. I run my thumb down the engraved cover, it’s patterns bumping under my finger. There’s a pad of dust on my thumb when I lift it again, a trail left behind on the leather. 

I’m so close- I feel it. Yet in the back of my mind it feels like I’m so, so far. 

The lights coming in from my window distract me for a moment, and I look at all the buildings I’ve looked at everyday. It’s all the same, like I’m exactly where I was yesterday, no more progress than the day before. 

Slowly, my gaze turns back to the desk.

After my father fumbled the Tesseract that first time, I felt even more determined to surpass him.

 To take on the world better than he could have ever imagined, make him feel as stupid as he looked.

I had thought that maybe going a more logical route would be more successful than his try, try, and try again strategy. 

And sometimes I think it’s working.

And then, there’s moments like this, when I’m hunched over a desk with a mind as blank as a void, that I think it really isn’t. 

I run my hands down the side of my face, the heels of my hands pressing into my skin. 

The god of mischief was just as good of a father as you’d expect. 

I remember the nights still, when he shouldve been home, stuck in that run down apartment with his face plastered across the tv, a big mischievous smile because he thought what he did was significant.

It makes me flinch how much I’ve grown to be like him.  

There’s a small crack between the holder and the 3rd gem of the necklace, a gap that would be hard to notice from any other angle. I reach out my thumb, and run it gently along the crack a few times as if to smooth it out. 

Another sigh, and I stand up from my chair. I’ll figure it out. I have to, I’ll do it and I’ll become better than he ever was, as low as that standard may be. 

I just have to do it right.

***

“He did it again.” 

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

Bruce looks between Tony and the computer curiously, standing up from his work. 

“Don’t tell me.” 

Across the room, Mr. Stark sighs. 

“That son of a bitch.” He mutters, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. The headline, big and bold on his screen, “Precious necklace stolen from small town museum- the work of Y/n.” 

“He’s up to something.” Bruce says, moving so he can read the headline over Tony’s shoulder, who just groans.

“He’s not just planning something- he knows something.”

Bruce glances back at the brunette man, “Should we do something to stop him?”

The answer is obvious. 

“We have to.” Tony sighs as his face leaves his hands. “We need him anyways.”

At this, Bruce looks at the man curiously. “We do? Why?”

Tony stares straight into the pixels of his screen.

“Because I know what he’s planning.”

***

It’s a slower day in downtown DC.

I can’t decide what I’m doing here, nor what I want to be doing. All I know is that I’m getting closer and closer to the capital with no plans of turning around.

There’s a corner coming up, and I turn, not expecting to see the woman around the corner when I do.

Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, looks at me expectantly as we make eye contact. 

“Well hello.” She says smoothly, giving me only a second to process before lunging for me. I feel a tingling in my palm, sparks of blue seeping through my fingers. 

“Oh, what a nice surprise.” I mock her, and she’s about to reach me. But just before she can make contact, I’m out of there again. 

I leave her on the sidewalk with nothing but the same blue fog as always, appearing back in an alleyway a few blocks down. Thinking I’m alone, the sparks fade from my fist. But another voice makes itself known before I can even turn around.

“-well that was easy.”

I spin around only to see Captain America at the other end of the alleyway. My eyes narrow- they’re kidding.

“Well doesn’t this work out well.”

Another glance behind me and I can see that Natasha has caught up to me much quicker than I had expected. I raise an eyebrow. 

“So you brought a friend? That’s nice.” I remark, before throwing a swift punch her way. She jumps back, just before I can hit. 

Arms wrap around my neck before I can process anything else- the strong grip from Captain catching me off guard. I try to pry him off of me, leaning my head down and without a second thought I bite him as hard as I can.

With a yelp, he pulls back. 

Blue fog surrounds me before I’m suddenly behind him, swinging my fist so it collided with the back of his head. He stumbles, holding the spot where I hit.

“He bit me!” He yells.

“You strangled me.”

With a groan, and the roll of her eyes, Natasha pounces on me again.

There’s struggling as she pushes my body backwards, but I continue to fight back until she suddenly backs away from me.

Confused, I step towards her. But her foot comes at me quicker than I can comprehend.

Next thing I know, my head collides with the strong metal of a shield. Fuck.

“Good work.” I hear faintly, as I’m stumbling to the floor. 

Words morph from Natasha’s mouth, but everything goes black before I can hear anything else.

***

“What are we gonna do with him?” 

Natasha stands across from the glass jail, circular in the center of the room. A bit dehumanizing, really, like some sort of exhibit. My unconscious body is still slumped on the floor, next to the one chair inside the cell. 

“Better yet- where did you get him?”

Thor asks, standing next to Bruce, Steve and Clint. His strong arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s looking around waiting for an answer.

“We think he’ll be useful in the plan against Thanos.” Tony answers, far too nonchalant for the situation, “he might be looking for the same stones we are.” He spins around in his chair, back now facing the computer he was just looking at to look at his teammates. A sound close to a scoff comes from Thor.

“You know that’s my nephew, right?” He points to my body, “unconscious in your little glass cage?” 

Tony rolls his eyes, rolls his head to the side. “I am well aware, Thor.”

“Wait, hold on-“ Bruce speaks up, processing far slower than Tony would like, “so we just kidnapped him? That was the plan?”

Natasha clicks her tongue. “Pretty much…”

“And are-“

Small plastic wheels scrape the floor as Tony abruptly stands up. So impatient, he claps his hands together to grab everyone’s attention.

“Glad we’ve established the obvious, how about we let me talk now.”

Thor immediately brushes him off- much to Tony’s annoyance. The muscular man steps forward and raises an eyebrow at the shorter man, who looks up at him with disinterest through the thick frames of his glasses. 

“What does Y/n have to do with any of this?” He asks with crossed arms. Tony sighs. 

“He recently stole this from some small town in the west,” Tony hands the blonde man a picture of the necklace, “looks important, part of a plan. We think he’ll be a good weapon against Thanos, and it’s a good excuse to see what’s up with the necklace.”

Thor examines the picture, eyes flickering to the glass occasionally. It still feels a bit absurd, though. 

“You really think he’s up to something big, huh.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.” Everyone’s gazes turn to Clint, “he is Loki’s kid, isn’t he?”

Thor doesn’t respond, he doesn’t have to because Tony is talking once more.

“Oh he’s Loki’s kid, alright.” He says.

“So, how do we plan to get him in on this, exactly?” Steve finally steps in.

It goes quiet, for a second, though the awkward glances are quite loud. 

“…I mean…we could get Loki in on this too.” Bruce answers after too long of a pause. Immediately, Thor shakes his head with a mighty laugh. 

“Oh no, no we aren’t doing that.” 

“That would work.” 

The blonde man snaps his head over to Tony. 

“Uh, no. Believe me, it wouldn’t.”

But he is once again ignored, instead walking away from the room and leaving the rest of the curious Avengers behind. But Thor follows. 

“Stark!” He shouts, following him out and down the hallway despite the sigh that he is met with.

“What, Thor.”

“You will not bring Loki here.” He says firmly, even if the words don’t make it through the stubbornness of Tony’s brain.

“And why’s that?”

“It’s a horrible idea-“

“You got a better one?”

Becoming exasperated, Thor throws his hands up before the drop to his sides. “I’ll do it, I’ll convince him.”

Tony scoffs. “Right, cause you’re so good at that.” He goes to walk away again, but still, Thor persists.

“It won’t work if Loki tries-“

“How do you know? Hmm?” Tony gives Thor a look, something so knowing that it frustrates Thor to no end, “when was the last time you talked to Y/n? Or Loki, for that matter?”

He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. Tony’s too stubborn, too head strong to negotiate right now. So, Thor only shakes his head. 

“Fine, do it your way, you’ll see.”

“That we will.”

***

By the time I’ve woken up, it’s far later in the afternoon. 

I try to sit up, head throbbing from the start of a migraine, when I realize I have no clue where I am. 

The edges of my vision blur together while I stumble up, so dizzying I nearly have to sit down again. Below me, my knees feel weak, like they could give out at any moment. But I stand anyways, stand and wait for the feeling in my muscles and bones to come back to me.

“Well, look who’s awake.” 

I whirl around, just close enough to knocking myself out again, and watch the figure outside of this…glass wall, stand up.

“Stark,” I mumble, rubbing the sore spot on my head, “should’ve known it’d be Stark.”

“Good morning to you too, Y/n.” 

I turn to see Natasha once more, how familiar. She’s leaning against one of the desks, and next to her are Bruce, Steve and Thor. I raise an eyebrow.

“Thor.”

He just nods awkwardly. “Hi Y/n.”

I look around, spinning, and chuckle. “Really brought in the whole gang, huh?” 

On the other side of the glass, Tony takes off his glasses to wipe at the lenses carefully. He looks uninterested as usual. 

Someone tries to talk to me again, but I’m already feeling the sparks of blue on my skin once more. 

“Uh, hey-“

“He’ll be fine.”

My head bangs against glass, and I’m sent back stumbling.

“What the fuck-“ My hand flies to my forehead, where I can already feel a bruise forming.

“The glass is a strong barrier,” Steve winks, “can’t get out.”

His cocky gaze makes me uncomfortable, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy. Nothing here ever is. 

I scoff, clicking my tongue. “Do you treat all your hostages like circus monkeys or am I just special?” 

“I’ll let you decide on that one.” Tony replies, settling his glasses back onto his face. “Now let’s get down to business.”

The room, now that I get a decent look at it, is pretty artificial. A large computer, followed by a smaller computer, scattered paperwork, a few glasses stained with the remnants of alcohol. Just about what I’d expect.

My uncle is sitting back, next to Banner, his big arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t look as calm or boastful as usual, instead glancing at the large doors. I furrow my eyebrows, following his gaze, but no one is there.

“We know you’re planning something.”

My eyes flicker to Steve, meeting his expectant gaze. I raise an eyebrow at him mockingly.

“Oh? Well that’s wonderful, though I thought I was quite obvious.”

Steve rolls his eyes, not amused. “Yeah, well, we are too,” he takes a step closer to me, “and we want you to be a part of it.”

I pause.

Visibly processing, it takes me a minute.

“…what?”

“I saw your little necklace heist the other day, since you’re so good at stealing think you could steal some stones for us?” Tony cuts in, raising an eyebrow at me. 

“You want me to steal stuff for you.”

“Well, and other stuff.” Bruce shrugs. He flinches away from my deadpan.

With the click of my tongue, rubbing my face, I turn back. “And why would I do that?”

Tony shrugs this time, “you might be interested to know we also are recruiting someone else.” 

I raise my eyebrow. “And who would that be?”

He doesn’t say the name, just gives me a look and by the glint his eyes I can’t tell if that’s better or worse. A voice suddenly sounds out from the doorway. 

“I’m going- good god I’m going, no need to shove-“ 

…

No.

I snap my head to the door. 

They’re joking.

The tall, unfortunately familiar figure of my father walks in. He looks almost the exact same.

Big gold thorns stick out from his helmet, a green robe on. When he turns to see me, I see his expression falter. For a second, he even looks nervous.

My eyes dart to Thor’s, who looks at me apologetically and shrugs. Then I look at Tony, eyes going cold. 

“If you wanted to persuade me to do something, Stark, he’s the last person you should’ve brought.”

I can see Thor out of the corner of my eye, how he’s looking between me and my dad, waiting for something to happen. But I refuse to look at Loki himself, even as he awkwardly sighs.

“Y/n.” He says, but I don’t respond.

“…what’s happening here.” Tony too, is looking between the two of us curiously.

“Should we leave?“ Bruce gets cut off by Thor. 

“I told you, Stark-“

There’s so much noise, so many voices, i squeeze my eyes shut to block them out. Why would they bring him here? Whose damn idea was this?

My fingers prod the skin over my temples, trying to clear my head, to think. Which, feels much harder since that blow to Captain’s shield over there. I wish I could make them feel like white noise against my ears.

Something someone says, who I assume is Banner or Natasha, catches my attention though. 

“I say we leave them alone for a bit, how about that.”

“Yeah I don’t want to have to watch this anymore.”

I’m realizing now their presence is better than the sole company of my father. 

“Wait-“ I turn around, them filing out of the doorway, “Thor.”

He doesn’t look at me, instead leans over and whispers something to Loki that I can’t hear. “Thor!” 

And, he’s gone.

An uncomfortable silence suddenly takes over the room, and I feel pressured to turn away. He clears his throat behind me, and then to my dismay, he talks.

“Y/n.”

I say nothing, and he sort of scoffs.

“Ah, the silent treatment, right.”

A quick breath escapes in disbelief, my anger is rising too quickly. I turn to him halfway, “would you rather I talk? Cause I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say much more.”

I can’t tell if he rolls his eyes or not. 

“Can we at least talk?” He asks next, and I start to feel the dents in my palm as my fingers clench tighter.

“Fine, do it.”

He didn’t seem to have expected that answer, because he takes a moment to continue. 

“Well, I…” he pauses, “well what do you want me to say?”

My lips fall in disbelief, and I look at him with a pinched expression.

“Are you serious?”

The internal battle of his brain becomes visible as his gaze darts away from mine, struggling for words. 

“Look, I know I wasn’t really there,”

“No really? I think I saw you more on tv than I ever did at home.” I say hoarsely.

“I, I was busy-“ he breathes out pathetically, each croak of his voice irking me. 

Locked in this, what is this, a cell? A cage? Put on display in front of the man I shame the thought of. I run my hands down my face, barely able to look at him. 

“Yeah, real busy running the world right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Well wasn’t that your end goal? Rule the world?” His shoulders recoil from my words, “become the most powerful god there is, right?” I look at him with exhausted, yet knowing eyes. I can tell by his silence, his face, he knows I’m right. I scoff and turn away, there’s no point in this anymore.

Moments of silence pass, I can still feel his presence behind me, looming like a shadow. By the time he speaks again, his voice has changed- more cautious, more delicate.

“I never thought I was cut out to be a father.”

And god that hurt, more than I’d care to admit. So I stay quiet.

“Thor was always the favorite,” he continues with a shaky laugh, “and he wasn’t even my real brother. So…”

The breathes he takes are louder, slower. 

“I’ve never really known how to, y’know, do that.”

I feel myself turning closer and closer to him, feeling the words he wants to say sting my tongue. 

“…have a family?”

“…yeah.”

His eyes have softened, pupils small like a speck against his iris. His throat strains against his skin, swallowing the lump in his throat to will himself to keep going now that he’s started.

“I should’ve been there.”

I know.

“But I wasn’t…and I should’ve been.” One pale hand pulls the helmet out of his messy hair, dropping to his side. The gold lightly smacks his thigh, yet his eyes never stray.

“My father wasn’t, and I wasn’t, and now…”

I finish the sentence for him.

“And now I’m just like you.”

My voice breaks as I say it, and part of my heart does too. 

“Which, no one deserves.” He laughs, but when I turn and watch his face I see the redness in his eyes, and the shakiness behind his smile as well as how it falters when he sees my own red eyes.

“I’ll fix it.” He almost whispers, voice brittle, “or I’ll try to, at least.”

And it’s not until now that I realize, that I know, I want to. 

My voice is too numb to speak, so I just nod tearfully. He swallows again. 

His eyes flicker to a panel just outside of the glass, and he reaches for it. I don’t have time to question before the glass doors are opening in front of me. 

He doesn’t say anything as I step out, and instead he hugs me.

I also realize I haven’t been hugged in a very long time. 

“I’ll do everything I can, Y/n.” Is what he says to me, voice hoarse against my ear and I hug him back with the strength I have.

“You better.” I mutter back, I can’t forgive him now, but with the warmth of his hold, I pray we’re both right.

[coldflasher]

okay since the montgomery 3000 clip is our snart gifset of the week, i wanna talk about my headcanon that actually the only reason len cracked the system so easily is because he figured out it had some incredibly stupid and exploitable design flaw that rendered all its fancy features absolutely useless. because it’s very common for incredibly clever people to make something really complex and cool but then overlook a very basic detail that kind of fucks the whole thing if you think about it for more than 5 seconds

because like. i love him. he’s very smart. but i do think that they kind of overstated his skillset a little bit in that ep. len’s smart and resourceful and he’s an experienced thief, but a hacker? mmm yeah, im not so sure about that. like if you look at how he pulled off his other heists, he wasn’t really hacking computer systems or whatever, it was more like, disabling basic security alarms, freezing lasers (which is... not... yeah, we’ll ignore that), lots of planning and attention to detail. but pulling off a felicity smoak level hack of an unfamiliar security system in 37 seconds? it was always a little bit silly and convenient, and i’m not mad about it, BUT i do have a better explanation for it than just “he’s such a good thief he can crack ANY security system instantly”. 

every time i watch this scene i think about this guy who picks locks on youtube. i wanna say it was thelockpickinglawyer? i can’t remember the exact video, might have been someone else, idk. but anyway, someone had asked him to try and crack open this brand new security lock that was supposed to be super secure. it was meant to be immune to being picked with a traditional lock pick. don’t ask me how, i know almost nothing about lock picking (though i did just get a copy of the CIA lockpicking guide from the international spy museum and i 100% bought it for fanfiction reasons so stay tuned, i will learn!!). but yeah idk, it was something like, the pins resist being lifted individually so you can’t manipulate them the way you usually would with a traditional rake pick, they have this special resistant mechanism, blah blah blah, like i said, i don’t remember the exact details but the point was: you cannot pick this lock. it is unpickable.

so the guy in the video describes all these fancy features that make this lock impossible to pick---and then he examines it for a second, thinks about it and then shoves a metal rod into it really hard and it IMMEDIATELY snaps open because after they’d done all the fancy shit they did to make it unpickable, they totally missed the fact that all you actually needed to do to open it was to essentially like. jab it. 

and that is how i think len cracked the montgomery 3000 in infantino street. he’s not actually an expert hacker, he just has common sense. 

like cisco is there listing all these features this system has that make it impenetrable: it’s bomb proof, it requires voice authentication, blah blah blah, and while team flash are panicking trying to figure out how to hack into this 10 million dollar impenetrable security system, len thinks about it for a second and then just. takes the batteries out.

[master-john-uk]

History of the world's most famous front door

Downing Street has been the official residence of the UK's Prime Minister since Sir Robert Walpole moved in in 1735. It was originally No. 5 Downing Street until the houses were renumbered in 1779. Since 1997 the Prime Minister's private apartment has actually been above No. 11 Downing Street.

The original six-panelled Georgian-style front door was fitted in 1770's. It was made from black oak and featured a centre door knob, lion head door knocker and brass letter plate which bore the inscription "First Lord of the Treasury". Following an IRA mortar attack on Downing Street in 1991, the oak door was replaced by a blast-proof steel door of the same design. The brass letterbox today is only decorative... so you can't post a friendly greeting card through the door anymore. There are actually two front doors, which are swapped over when they need repainting. The original wooden door is now stored at The Churchill Museum.

In 1908, PM Herbert Asquith had the door painted green. Apparently the Prime Minister’s wife Margot Asquith complained that the building was "liver-coloured and squalid and lacked the landmark qualities of Marble Arch or the Albert Memorial."

Since renovation work carried out in 1960, the "0" numeral of No. 10 has been at a 37° angle. This puzzled me for many years. I finally got an answer when I was temporarily working for the Ministry of Silly Walks in Whitehall in the 1990's. It seems the zero is actually a capital letter "O" taken from the Roman Trajan alphabet, the font used by the Ministry of Works used at the time. (This answer does not satisfy me completely, but it is the best I can find.)

The door to 10 Downing Street can not be opened from the outside. A security officer is on duty at all times inside the door, who monitors who is approaching via cameras and grants access.

Larry the Cat, Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office has his own private entrance to No. 10. He is the first Downing Street cat to have this privilege. However, Larry only uses the cat-flap when he is on an emergency call out. He generally uses the front door, which is more befitting for a cat of his importance. Larry has served longer in Downing Street than Margaret Thatcher, Sir Winston Churchill or Benjamin Disraeli.

[ofcruelheart]

* ◟ : 〔 DEVON AOKI , CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER 〕 AZUSA FUJIWARA , some say you’re a THIRTY SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both HEADSTRONG and IMPULSIVE, one can’t help but think of MIZU SUITE by AMIE DOHERTY when you walk by. are you still a CAPO, FREELANCE MERMAID for THE DEAD HAND, SELF-EMPLOYED, even with your reputation as THE BLACK PEARL? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and LUMINESCENT PEARLS AND SHELLS INLAID WITHIN THE HILT OF KATANAS, BARE FEET DANCING UPON SHATTERED GLASS AS THEY WOULD UPON AN OCEAN FLOOR, RUEFULLY STARING INTO THE HORIZON AND DENYING YOUR OWN HOMESICKNESS, although we can’t help but think of MIZU ( BLUE EYE SAMURAI ) + OYUKI ( LADY SNOWBLOOD ) + YOR FORGER ( SPY X FAMILY ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

Name: Azusa Fujiwara Age: 37 Pronouns: She/Her Orientation: Bisexual Affiliation, Role: The Dead Hands, Capo Occupation: Previously, an ama, a pearl diver--she will always consider herself as such; currently a freelance mermaid Notable Attributes: Cutting, thrilling dark eyes, hair the color and luminescence of undyed silk trailing down to her waist, unrivaled agility, a siren's grace in and out of water but a sailor's mouth, literally deranged logic Tropes: Silk Hiding Steel, Disproportionate Retribution, Lady of War, Didn't Think This Through, Insane Troll Logic, Lightning Bruiser

tw: murder

-

海女

-

Their lineage trace its origins to ama during the Heian period—Japanese divers plunging into the depths for pearls and abalone, offerings destined for shrines or emperors. The women of the family mastering the art of reading tides and waves, rendering their descent into the abyss more fruitful. They wear white in their dives to symbolize purity and to ward away sharks. Sometimes they wear nothing at all. Their pearls delicately grace the bosoms of consorts, and their abalones, plump and fat, bedeck the altar. Among ama, they are revered.

Nearly two thousand years later, the demands in their craft and the bounty of their catches dwindle. While the pearl cultivation technique has since developed, and ama divers are no longer required, its success wouldn’t have been possible without their contribution. Her lineage, in particular, has transformed into a tourist attraction at Mikimoto Pearl Island, captivating visitors with their daily diving demonstrations at the museum. It is a humiliation, her mother bemoans, a far cry from their days of lining crowns and shrines with pearls, but she is in the minority. The rest of their kin, and the other ama, are grateful there is still a place for them at all to share their art. Azusa thinks the act of serving has simply shifted. From shrines and emperors to tourists and gift shops.

In spite of this, they find she is a marvel underwater, carving through currents and waves like a knife, emerging from the depths with oysters cradling the largest, roundest pearls. She remains silent as they are transported to the museum shop, celebrated as treasures hand-captured by one of Japan's oldest pearl-diving lineages. Her demonstrations at the museum become among the most beloved, thanks in part to her showmanship—how she entertains the crowds with graceful acrobatics during her dives, earning her the moniker 'The Mermaid of Mikimoto' for her swift maneuvers beneath the cresting waves and her enigmatic smile as she unveils the bounty concealed within an oyster.

It is during one of her demonstrations that she notices a group of foreigners engaged in boisterous conversation, their laughter permeating the air, accompanied by remarks about her speaking. Annoying and somewhat distracting, she dismisses it from her mind. Only when she splits open an oyster does she cast a glance their way once more. A man makes a crude gesture towards her, signaling to his companions in an unmistakable manner. Fury pulses through her veins, though her countenance betrays nothing.

Chaos ensues only in the night, when the museum and the island shuts down for the evening, and onto the next day. The foreigner, the very same who had made the crude gesture, is found washed up on the island's shores. Her kin know there is only one to blame. To save her from punishment, they send her off to America, to New York, to live with her father, far from all she's ever known.

Her father, as it turns out, presides over another enduring lineage in the city—matchmakers. Having garnered the favor of the city's oldest families, ethical or not, his lineage boasts a storied history of uniting esteemed families. It is not a vocation that suits her, they quickly find out, but it is through a misfire that she becomes entwined with another - The Dead Hands.

Her acrobatics, athleticism, and penchant for violence lend themselves well to the organization, and cloaked in the whispers of iridescent silk, her presence is a dance of shifting hues, a reflection of the depths she once navigated as a pearl diver and the new depths she cuts through now. Her weapons, adorned with luminescent pearls, tell tales of her past. Each blade is a crafted tribute to the ocean's treasures, now wielded with the deftness of a capo. Her steps leaves no ripples, just as a drowning leaves nothing in its wake.

SUMMARY: Rooted in the ancient tradition of ama during the Heian period, Azusa's lineage, a revered group of Japanese divers, once plunged into the depths to retrieve pearls and abalone for offerings to shrines and emperors. Over the centuries, their craft transformed into a tourist attraction at Mikimoto Pearl Island, with Azusa herself captivating audiences with her breathtaking underwater prowess, earning her the title 'The Mermaid of Mikimoto.' However, a disturbing encounter with disrespectful foreigners during a demonstration leads to a tragic turn of events. To avoid punishment for the death of one of the offenders, Azusa is sent to live with her father in America, only to discover his involvement in a prestigious lineage of matchmakers. Unsuited for such endeavors, Azusa's trajectory takes a darker turn when her skills attract the attention of The Dead Hands, an organization that sees her acrobatics, athleticism, and penchant for violence as valuable assets. Cloaked in iridescent silk and wielding weapons adorned with luminescent pearls, Azusa's journey weaves together the depths of her past as a pearl diver with the newfound shadows she navigates in her capo role.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

an expansion of how she became involved in the dead hands - perhaps she set up an ill-fated match with one of its members? perhaps she became involved in an ill-fated match??

her daytime occupation is a freelance mermaid, which, to her is a humiliating perversion of the art she had practiced. hire her for your pool parties or adult soirees!

more of her past matchmaking misfires coming back to bite her in the ass lol and no, she can't issue refunds

a handler tbh, she is a menace

[little-cereal-draws]

"Laters Gators" (MKtober day two)

Voicemail 1 out of 42, May 2nd, 2024, 11:49 AM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum! It's me! I just got to the flat you're renting me and let me just say it's gorgeous! Super spacious and has a wonderful view of the street! Yeah, I'm looking at it now. All the people look so small."

Laugh, traffic noises in the background. The sound of a window closing, the traffic is quieter now.

"Anyway, Mum, I was just calling to say thank you so much again for letting me live here a while until I can get on my feet. As soon as I finish unpacking these boxes, I'm going to start job hunting. Yeah, might take a day or two for me to get through them all though, there's a lot."

Uncertainty, lying.

"Um, yeah. But anyway, hopefully I can find a job soon enough. I mean it's a big city, someone has to be hiring."

Laugh.

"Call me back when you can, I know the time difference makes it wonky. Love you. Laters gators."

--

Voicemail 2 of 42, May 10th, 2024, 3:44 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum! Good news!"

Traffic, wind, definitely walking outside.

"I just got out of an interview with a school, and I think it went pretty well. I'm applying for a librarian position. Work with kids and teach them, y'know? I really think they liked me! They certainly seemed more interested in me than that bookstore. Hopefully they call me back soon! Anyway, I would love to hear how you've been, call me back when you can. And I'll let you know if I get the job. Love you. Laters gators."

--

Voicemail 5 of 42, May 24th, 2024, 6:37 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum. I've been doing well."

Sad, tired, light sounds of clanking metal in the background.

"I'm cooking dinner right now. I'm still job hunting. It's been a bit tougher than I thought. I mean, I don't have any credentials or schooling for one. Also, I don't have any proof of my identity. It's a bit silly but since I don't have a driver's license or a passport or a social security card, I've started carrying around that postcard you sent me as proof. It's like 'Look, mate. I'm sitting right in front of you, that's my name and address on the card, and I exist, don't I? You can hire me!' but I understand why they can't do that. Criminals and all that. Stealing people's identities or whatever."

Slight laugh that ends in a long sigh.

"So, I'm working on getting an ID first and then I'll get back to job hunting. That postcard looks fun though, I've always wanted to go to Rome. Roma. Well, call me back and tell me how it went. Love you. Laters gators."

--

Voicemail 15 of 42, July 1st, 2024, 6:18 PM

"Hi, Mum. I was just calling to let you know how the first day of my new job went! The one at the museum. I'm, um, a tour guide like I was telling you, yeah."

Uncertainty, lying.

"It went really, really well. I met so many new people and I think I really inspired them, y'know? My boss Donna is just a peach. She calls me Stevie. It's like an inside joke we have."

Tense, gritted teeth.

"We just get a long like peas in a pod. No problems there! Everyone is just so nice!"

Nervous laugh.

"Everything's going just great. I loved your postcard from Bejing. All the signs and lights. Looked really cool. I know you've always got loads of work and you're always traveling but call me back, please. I miss you."

A long pause. A throat being cleared.

"Um, right, yeah, ok. Anyway, I'm home now so I gotta go. Love you. Laters gators."

--

Voicemail 24 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:11 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum. Sorry for calling so late, though I suppose it's not late there, I don't know. I had to stay late to do inventory. Again. Not as punishment, I just enjoy endless counting and scanning. It really gets me going."

Tired, so tired. The sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. A long pause.

"Ok, Mum, just tell me when you're free and I'll call you then. It doesn't matter if I'm at work, I'll just step into the toilet and call you there. You haven't returned a single one of my calls. You send postcards all the time, and I love those, but the messages -if there is one! - are always very short and terse."

Footsteps followed by the sound of papers rustling.

"'Hello from Caracas!' 'Sending love from Karachi!' This one says, 'Hello from Casablanca. Love Mom.' That's the longest message you ever wrote me! Please, Mum, I want to know how you're doing! I want to hear about your day! I want to hear your voice-"

Voice breaking, long pause, slight sniffling.

"Please, Mum. I- I miss you. I've- um, I've been having a really tough time actually. London's been hell. I don't have any money or friends and I hate my job; everyone bullies me there. I'm actually a stupid cashier in the gift shop not a tour guide like I told you."

Getting more choked up.

"I can't even have a peaceful homelife! I've got some sort of sleeping disorder and I keep waking up in weird places with horrible injuries. It's only a matter of time before I get arrested for trespassing or some other crime! I can't rest in the day, and I can't rest at night! I hate my life; I hate it so much!"

Sobbing.

"I am so lonely!! I don't- I don't-"

More sniffing and sobbing.

"Mummy, please... call me back... I need you..."

Sobbing.

--

Voicemail 25 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:47 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum."

Voice hoarse, uncertain, tired.

"So, um, about the message I just sent you. I was um, just... drunk. Yeah, that's it."

Uncertainty, lying.

"But I'm better now. I threw up and had some tea and potatoes. I, um, did that all really fast. So, um, sorry about that. Please disregard that last message, I don't know what I was going on about, I'm actually doing quite well."

Forced laugh.

"Anyway... I'll stop bothering you now. Let you get back to whatever you're doing. Love you. Laters gators."

[pix4japan]

Kanban-Kenchiku Architecture from 1927〜

Location: Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum, Tokyo Timestamp: 15:28 on October 25, 2023

Pentax K-1 II + DFA 28-105mm F3.5-5.6 37 mm ISO 200 for 1/125 sec. at ƒ/11

The East Zone of the Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum in Tokyo offers a nostalgic glimpse into the local urban life of the Showa Period (1926-1989). This area recreates a typical Japanese urban neighborhood from that era, featuring a variety of shops, a public bath, a bar, and other establishments commonly found in the bustling streets of the past. The museum meticulously preserves the architectural charm of this bygone time, showcasing kanban-kenchiku buildings adorned with materials like mortar crafted in patterns reminiscent of Greek temples. These structures boast impressive classical pillars and gables, some even incorporating Art Nouveau decorations with copper plating and boards that have acquired a charming patina over the decades.

To delve deeper into Japan’s unique kanban-kenchiku architecture during the Showa Era in Tokyo, visit my blog (https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20231025-edo-bldg-museum). Links to Google Maps and to source materials are also available allowing you to uncover the fascinating historical aspects of Tokyo's urban landscape in a brief yet insightful read.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches & Wizards Jobs 17-18-19

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

SEVENTEEN

I slept like I hadn't in months. Living in a constant state of anxiety will do that to you, I suppose. But I was so far from home and from the enemies and dangers of Chicago that it felt as if they were too far away to matter. Even the war seemed a thing happening to someone else. It was a dangerous feeling, particularly because the house didn't have any of the protections of my Chicago apartment, but I was too tired to care.

I woke up to an unfamiliar doorbell and my dog trying to murder me by stepping on my kidneys. That much dog euphorically walking all over you will wake you up in a hurry, if nothing else. I dragged myself out of the surprisingly comfortable bed and down the stairwell to the door.

I found my current boss there.

"Dresden."

"Ford." I was all at once as awake as someone could be, every sense sharply on the alert.

"You can't use an electric stove, can you."

Ok, not the words I'd expected to hear from the man. "Uh, I can probably do it once."

"Without setting the house on fire?"

"Fifty-fifty on that one."

"Mm. Get dressed. We're gonna pick up breakfast."

He must have seen something on my face. I'd expected a lot of things; most people see Soulgazing as a theft, or worse. Very few like what they see in me. I'd expected to be fired, or interrogated, or something in a long and extensive list. Treated to even more food had not been part of it.

Ford shrugged minutely. For once he looked put together, and it was startling. He still had that deceptively harmless quality, the feel of a man that makes friends easily. He was freshly shaved, wearing a light shirt under a summer jacket and casual slacks, all in dark, neutral tones. His hair was still damp. "I refuse to let you think Boston only wants to come at you swinging."

I opened the door wide and stepped aside. "For the record, I don't mind Boston. I just don't want to make waves."

He stepped in. Mouse sniffed him, the banner of his tail wagging sedately, and Ford distractedly rubbed his head. I don't think he even noticed he was doing it. "Is it that easy? If what happened yesterday at the museum hadn't happened, would the city still know you're here?"

"Yes."

He looked thoughtful, but merely went on his way to examine the rooms full of crates while I took the fastest shower in the world, fed Mouse some dog food that looked like it cost more than my rent back in Chicago and got into my spare clothes. We headed out into an unfairly sunny and lovely morning. Trees bordered the street, the houses gracious in their old age. Boston was lovely.

It just wasn't home.

"There is, comparatively speaking, a lot of things living in Boston that aren't human. Supernaturals move, same as us," I explained as we walked. "For work, for life, for family. That's universal. And Boston's one point where that traffic bottlenecks. A lot of them don't go any further."

"So Boston's the best they could find?" He gave me a quick, incredulous glance.

"No, the most convenient. Magic likes it when you throw down roots. You can draw power from your home in a pinch, there's protections that kinda seep into a place the longer you live in it."

"Lintel magic," he murmured.

I damn near stopped walking. It was the first time in all our dealings that I'd heard Ford use the m-word.

"My mother believed," he said after a few steps. "She'd tell me stories, the old classics, and the ones from the Old World. Fairies, wicked stepmothers, charming princes - kelpies, hounds, fairy queens…" He shrugged once again. "I'm not nearly as surprised as I should be that the reality is even bloodier."

"You stopped believing, why?"

The ice flickered briefly in his eyes. "You looked into my soul, Dresden, don't you know why?"

"It doesn't work like that. You know that, or I would already be on a train to Chicago."

He did look amused at that, snorting minutely. "Dresden, you're Crime Lite from where my people and I are standing." He marshalled his thoughts while I tried to figure out if I was flattered, insulted, or something else even more complicated. "Life got in the way. Here comes Parker."

The thief was sprinting at us. She'd probably been coming to meet everyone in the loft. "Nate! Are you getting donuts?"

"Uh, we can?"

"I want donuts."

"I want something a little more substantial than donuts," he pointed out mildly.

"Oh, fine." She peeked at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'll do better with a couple of donuts in me."

She beamed. Ford groaned. We walked down the block to a little shop by the clever name of Double-O's, which did bagels and donuts both. Ford ordered enough food to feed twenty people and we sat at one of the little tables with a couple of donuts and some coffee and they brought me up to speed on what they'd done after I'd gone down.

Parker and Eliot had moved the coffee table, and everything in it, to the storage room, and taped the key to the Witchwell. That was already a huge weight off my mind. But then the Leverage people had gone further - with the crumpled envelope, of all things.

"It's not paper, it's vellum," Ford explained while Parker demolished a donut covered in chocolate and corn flakes. "Which is just fancy paper made to imitate actual vellum."

"Expensive paper," I ventured.

"Precisely."

"There was no writing."

"There doesn't need to be. Remember the embossing on it? It's a sigil, sort of a coat of arms."

"I really, really would love to know what it is you people actually do. So you looked up this sigil thing?

"Solve puzzles." Ford didn't miss a beat. "We didn't have to. Sophie knows it by heart, it's the sigil of Christie's."

"Christie's, the British Auction House?"

"Yes."

I worked on my coffee. "I'm hoping this makes sense to you, because I'm -"

The lights above us flickered. I wouldn't have thought much of it; I was there, after all. But at one of the tables, two women snatched up their purses and one toddler, and scurried off at truly phenomenal speed.

There were advantages to having that many supernaturals around, apparently. I snatched for my wand; like a moron, I'd left my staff back at the house.

"Do not." The gratingly avuncular tone was threaded with menace.

The man in black walked sedately past the counter and the last late morning customers. Only one person reacted to his passage, a young man wearing a typical cycling outfit, a messenger bag slung across his chest. He took one look over his shoulder and bolted. No one else seemed to see him, to know he was there. They shifted out of his way because suddenly they had to reach for a napkin or a sugar packet or something else, but no one directly acknowledged his presence at all.

It was a Veil with conditions. Until that moment I'd never known a Veil could be crafted like that, with exceptions built in.

Ford put a hand on my good shoulder and shook his head minutely. I tried to relax, and managed only to pull my hand out of my duster pocket. Parker was glaring with hyperbolic fury.

"Ah, you must be the sensible one," the man in black told Ford. "What pleasant luck."

"Every now and again," Ford agreed mildly.

He turned to look at Parker. She immediately looked down at her donut and scowled.

"This modern world," the man in black mused. "One comes to find the Prince of Thieves, and it is a woman. How times change. Hands on the table, please. Where I can see them."

"Parker," Ford said quietly when she didn't move. He said nothing else; he merely let his eyes take in the dozen or so people sharing space with us and the wizard.

She obeyed, sulking all the while.

"And yours, wizard Dresden."

Gosh, I'd almost forgotten what it was like, when someone used the title to insult me. I dropped both my hands on the table and worked really hard on not curling them into fists.

"Well, isn't this nice." He sat at our table. He was wearing fully modern clothing, a high-collared white shirt, a black embroidered vest, a long black coat with silver and emerald buttons, dress slacks, expensive shoes. His black hair had been cut and combed back, and his moustache and beard were so neatly trimmed I wouldn't have been surprised to find out he'd used a ruler. He was a very pale man, and his eyes were the same luminous, poisonous green of the painting and his magic. He looked and sounded so smug it took effort not to just haul up and punch him on principle. "So very nice. You have something of mine, sir," he told Ford mildly. "Several somethings, actually." He grinned.

"That would be stealing. I don't make it a habit to confess to crimes publicly, even when I haven't committed any."

The man's eyes flashed. His mouth opened - and closed, and he looked deeply amused. "No, of course not. You have committed no crime." His voice suddenly turned into a lash. "Hands. On the table."

Parker glared at him.

"I do strive to not be a fool more than once," he told her mildly. "If you do that again, I will kill someone here. Someone you do not know. Someone who does not know you. That nice man who served you your donuts, maybe. The old lady one of your companions held the door for one time. It will not hurt you. It will just be a toothache, forever there to be worried at, because I will kill them only if you take your hands off the table. Yes?"

Parker's face had gone to stone. My hands, despite my best efforts, had curled into fists after all. Ford tightened his grip on my shoulder a little more.

"I do not see a need to make this into a quarrel," the man in black said very calmly. "My attention is on greater matters. Whatever Dresden might have told you, until the small issue at the museum, I had committed no crime."

"No c- No crime? At the very least you destroyed the MFA lab. You stole from their vaults."

"Not at all. The portrait is mine. I commissioned Sokolov for it. Beautiful work, truly. I was very pleased with it, even with the nose being wrong."

"Working from memory," Ford mused.

"Mm, as portraitists do. So you see, I was recovering my property."

"You could have gone through proper channels. That shouldn't be a hardship for a man like you."

"I am pressed for time," the man in black admitted. "Which is why I come to make you an offer."

I tensed up immediately. Ford's hand turned into a vise on my shoulder and he shot me a warning look.

"You will return my property to me. And I will not kill you. You will send Dresden home. And I will not kill him. You will forget this matter. And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire. Whatever it might be. Fame, fortune, revenge, knowledge. I am a man of many talents. I daresay there's very little in this world that I could not give you. One wish."

"I get to punch you once," Parker growled immediately.

The man in black blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Well, not that."

Under the table, Parker's leg bumped lightly against mine. It was so unexpected, so out of nowhere from someone who only touched even her own teammates when she absolutely had to, that it shocked me back to my senses, and I turned my attention to her. She was scowling at the man in black from the corner of her eyes, hunched down minutely, her hands flat on the table, tension on every line of her body, and her face had the same wild expression she'd had back at the Museum, when she'd figured out how to save our asses.

I lunged at the man in black across the table. I did it slow; I already knew I was much quicker than him. For a moment I thought I was going to actually get at him, the one time I didn't care if I did, but Ford belatedly caught me. "Dresden!"

Whatever slammed into me froze me, literally. I felt my veins turn to ice, my muscles lock. Cold blasted into me, left me motionless, unable to even shiver. I could barely gasp for air, but hey, if I wasn't going to get another chance to breathe, I might as well put the one breath I had to good use. "My hands're still on the table," I hissed at the man in black.

I saw surprise and fury flash through his eyes. He'd thrown himself back and scrambled to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. No one noticed." So they are," he gritted out, and his magic faded, letting me wheeze for breath. With an effort he turned to face Ford, the mild and cheerful facade gone behind a vulturine, sharp and predatory look that was far more appropriate. "My property. Now, if you please."

"Does that include the Burning Witch's Well?"

Surprise once again went over the angular features, quickly hidden out of sight. "Yes."

"Well, you nearly killed twenty people with it, so, uh. No."

The man in black bared his teeth and flicked his hand. The lights went out. I threw my hand up and whatever he'd meant to hit Ford with crashed instead into my shield. It sent us both skidding back until we hit a half-wall behind us, random little decorations falling off it. He looked livid; yeah, still faster than you, asshole.

"Then I will take what is mine, and enjoy the killing of you all in the process," he declared, stalking off.

Breathless or not, Nate rushed immediately after him. I turned to check on Parker. "You alright?"

"Yeah, go get him!" She was wriggling in place. "I gotta put my shoes back on!"

Her sh-

Her shoes?!

There's only so many surprises I can cope with from just one person. I ran after Ford, but he was just outside the door to the shop, looking frustrated, scanning the street in every direction.

"Don't bother," I told him. "He probably closed off the Veil he was wearing to begin with."

"You saw him."

"No. I saw a couple of ladies bolt; they're the ones who saw him. I told you; you can't hide a wizard, not easily."

Parker nearly ran into us both as she charged out the door. "Is he gone?"

"Yup." Ford had that look again, the look that said he was putting together bits and pieces into a whole no one else had even noticed was there.

A man peeked out of the shop. "Mister Ford? Your order's ready."

"Oh, good." He marched back inside.

"You picked his pockets again," I told Parker before either of us followed Ford inside, not sure if I was amused or amazed. I settled for both.

"Yeah, of course I did. You almost messed me up, though!"

"I did? I thought you were signaling me for a distraction!"

She flushed minutely. "No. Your legs are just longer than Eliot's."

"… Sorry?" She grinned a little. "So what did you get?"

She grinned even more.

EIGHTEEN

Nate charged into the loft at full speed. "Hardison, are you here yet?"

The hacker had been in the kitchen; he peeked out of the fridge. "Yeah, man. Uh, fridge's broken."

"Then replace it, landlord mine." Nate glanced at the door and added, his voice quieter. "Quietly."

Hardison's expression filled with understanding, and he nodded. "Did you get breakfast?"

"They're bringing it up. I don't promise there's any donuts left. Is everyone else here?"

"We are now." Eliot held the door open for Parker and Dresden, Sophie coming up behind them. "What's this I'm hearing, that you met the man in black?"

"We did," Nate confirmed cheerfully.

"What?!" Hardison looked stunned.

"Is everyone alright?" Sophie asked.

"Oh, yeah, everyone's fine. He just wanted to talk. Threaten us, bully us, you know, the usual. Dresden, back to your couch, I need Hardison's computers." The wizard went that way obediently, but he didn't let go of the box he was carrying, raiding its contents before he surrendered it to Eliot. Sophie followed Parker to the staging area.

"Hardison." Nate sat and stared at the screens. "The Tetryakov Gallery is the main repository of Sokolov's work. That's not just his portraits and his studies, that's also his journals, his notebooks. The records of his commissions. Do they have electronic copies of those?"

In a moment the central screen was full of documents, more and more being flicked to one side as the hacker blithely charged into presumably secured databases across the world. "Some of it."

"Cross-reference against the portrait. We might not know who the people in it are, but it's absolutely one of Sokolov's largest pieces."

"It's also a full-body portrait of two people. He preferred faces, busts, or large groups. It's unique," Sophie added.

"Give me a minute, I'm having to run all this through a translator. I don't actually read Russian."

"Sophie, Parker. Are there any big art events taking place within the next three days?"

"Yes," Parker replied before Sophie could. "A private art auction in two days." She pulled from an inner jacket pocket a small piece of paper and handed it over with a grin.

Sophie took it, read it, and passed it on. "That's what the Christie's man is here for. He's not selling, he's buying."

"He just went to all this trouble to get the portrait, and he's selling it already?" Eliot protested mildly. "Why?"

"Because in two days he won't need it anymore." Ford stared at the screen. "Dresden, the brass piping. What you meant to do with it, can you do it in the storage room as well?"

"If there's enough brass, yes."

"Do it." Nate looked at his team. "He can't find them. He came to us because whatever Dresden did worked. The key, the circles, whatever it is, they are actually doing their job and he can't find all the stuff Parker took from him. I bet he had some sort of tracker in his pockets, waiting for Parker to go for it."

"Jerk," the thief muttered, but she didn't sound angry as much as resigned. "I figured the paper was safe."

"Dresden."

Eliot brought the piece of paper to their consultant. It was a match to the envelope, heavy vellum, the ink black and gold, the writing beautifully elegant. Dresden grimaced as soon as he touched it, and lifted it up. "Nope. This is your tracker."

"I can't put it back when he just keeps being invisible!" Parker protested.

Nate gestured appeasingly. "Hardison, make a copy. We'll put the original with the rest of the stuff. I imagine next he's going to try and break in, send the leshy to fetch them, or something worse." Once again he turned to Dresden. "Can you stop that from happening?"

"Yes, but I should get started soon," the wizard had sat up straight, staring in something like wonder as, once again, Nate did what he did best.

"You've got the whole day. Sophie, you and I have a meeting for dinner."

"Fedorov?" When he nodded confirmation, she pursed her mouth. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"No. That's why we're going."

Hardison had put the invitation into a scanner that was discreetly hidden in one of the desks. He handed it back to Parker, who glared at it as if it were the man in black himself. The computers chose that moment to beep and he looked sharply up. "Found it." His fingers flew over the keyboard and he grimaced. "They're direct scans from one of Sokolov's commission journals. The OCR is having a time with it, let me see if I can make the name of the commissioner any clearer." He clipped one particular set of lines from the yellowed, faded page on the screen.

Sophie drew in a sharp breath. Eliot, who'd been coming over to take the invitation from Parker, froze.

"You're fine, Hardison. It reads fine like that," Nate murmured distractedly.

"That can't be right," Eliot muttered.

"What's been right about this job from the beginning?" Sophie countered mildly.

"What's it say?" Hardison asked.

All three of them replied at once. "Koschei."

Behind them, Dresden choked on his breakfast sandwich.

Nate clapped his hands. "This is good!"

"Good?" Eliot stared at the mastermind in disbelief. "This is good? We're going up against the main bad guy in every Russian fairy-tale ever written, someone who actually makes the Russians balk, and you think this is good?!"

"All fairy tales have their basis on something real," Sophie had sat to one side, her hands wrapped around a cup she hadn't touched yet. "Khan Koshan was a barbarian warlord, back in a time when Russia was simply Rus, 'the land'."

"It's good because we have a name," Nate explained. "And a name means a trail. Wizards might not be able to use technology - he is a wizard?" He turned to Dresden, waited for a nod to carry on. "But the rest of the world does. A name means a profile, travel records, hotels, purchases. Even if he's not using his own name, and honestly I expect he'd be the sort who would out of sheer arrogance, a name isn't the sort of thing that blows up computers, like an image does." He turned to stare at the screen. "A name gives us everything. Hardison, this isn't your usual profile, but can you give me an estimate of how long it will take you?"

"You want me to guess how long it'll take to sift through two hundred years of fairy tales to get a bead on this man?" Hardison stared at Nate.

"He's older than that," Dresden sounded off. "He's much, much older than that."

"Dresden." Nate acknowledged. "Do you have a starting point?"

Harry exhaled sharply. "Yes," he replied carefully.

The mastermind pressed his mouth into a thin line and added, "One that doesn't involve men in gray and big swords?"

"I'm working on that," Dresden admitted. "Khan Koshan is…sort of a wizardly cautionary tale. He's the only wizard anyone knows of that successfully managed immortality."

"As in he can't die, or he can't be killed?" Eliot asked.

"Both," the wizard replied grimly. "That's half the trick. You can be ageless, if you don't mind every supernatural in the world out for your blood. You can be unkillable, if you don't mind selling your soul. As far as anyone knows, he got both kewpie dolls without paying the price."

"So he's a criminal." Nate didn't look convinced.

"That's the other half, he's not. Technically." Harry seemed to measure his words with incredible care. "The best known way to be ageless is by stealing the life off of someone else. That is outright necromancy. Men in gray. Big swords."

"He's not doing that." It wasn't a question.

"No. No one knows how he's doing it, only that he absolutely doesn't age, and that he's not a necromancer."

"And he can't be killed? Hurt?" That came from Eliot, who was scowling at the very thought.

"Parker clocked him twice at the museum. Solid hits. They were gone by the time I tackled him."

"That can't be an easy trick to pull off," Sophie mused.

"It's not. What… is known is what the fairy-tales are already telling you. He cut out his own heart and hid it - he hid it so well that no one can find it, not even death."

Sophie drew in a deep breath. "The brooch. The Emerald Heart of Koschei the Deathless. The jewel that no one's ever seen, but everyone knows is real."

"Yup. Now, here I'm going on hearsay: he did it to gift it to a woman he loved. But she rejected him, and it poisoned the heart. Turned him greedy and cruel. He was going to share the trick of it with the world, up until that point. Having met the man, I think it's bullcrap. He never meant to give the secret away. He's just spinning some PR to make himself look the victim, not the villain."

"That tracks," Nate agreed.

"Is that what he's after?" Eliot turned. Hardison had put up a picture of the portrait on one of the screens, deeming it safe enough since no phones had been sacrificed in the acquisition of it.

"The placement of the lock would seem to hint at it," Sophie agreed, but she saw Nathan frown minutely.

Surprisingly, it was Dresden who sounded off. "Why? It's been safe all this time, impossible to find. Why bother now, why bother at all?"

"Mm." Nate stared at the painting. "Dresden, do you mind shouting across the room?"

"I like it better than the alternative."

"Then I'd like you to work with Hardison on the profile, but the security around the things we took from Koschei takes priority. Eliot, you're with them. Sophie, Parker, we're going to find out what we can about this private auction."

"I bet Jess knows," Parker suggested.

"Start there, then. Dresden." It was Nate's turn to choose his words very carefully. "Is this something you should report to your people?"

The wizard looked surprised to even be considered on that regard. "Technically."

"We're flying on a lot of 'technically's here," the mastermind muttered.

"I mean, I can't use a cellphone. I'd have to find a landline." A little smirk ghosted over Harry's features making him look, for a fleeting moment, young. "The only ones I know of are back in Chicago."

Nate didn't smile, but it was a close thing.

NINETEEN

To be fair, I did get why Ford called it 'wanton destruction of property'. Eliot just looked way too gleeful wielding a power tool. And it absolutely wasn't because I was a little bit jealous that he got to use the fun toys, like a nail gun. Cordless drill. Power sander.

Nope, not jealous at all.

So the morning went with Eliot in my basement and me out in the yard entertaining Mouse, and the hitter occasionally stopping long enough to relay a question from Hardison back at the loft.

Then he ran out of iron nails. That wasn't anyone's fault, I'd asked for enough for a few spells, not enough to line the doors and windows, which was what it would take to keep the leshy out. No shield or barrier I could think of was going to keep a Golden Bear out, obviously. And I couldn't imagine anyone had ever come up with something to keep Koschei out, it would have been the stuff of legends. No, the point was the circle, and the ward inside, a copy of the pattern on the key.

Hey, if it worked for Koschei it was good enough for me.

Eliot took off to get more nails. Hardison didn't want me near the loft while he worked on a little joint project I'd suggested. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to head into my shiny new basement, close my shiny new circle for protection, and break out Bob.

I'd honestly thought about leaving Bob behind. My apartment might not look like much, but there were protections on it that only living for years in the same place can create. My laboratory, the sub-basement, was not only protected but hard to find. There was a better than good chance that Bob would be reasonably safe. But better than good was no perfect. And powerful and knowledgeable as Bob was, he still lived in a skull, and skulls are fragile. I wasn't worried about any of the many enemies in my life breaking in and finding him nearly as much as I was about them breaking in and not realizing how valuable he was while they wrecked the place.

In any case, I'd brought him with me. I hadn't expected we'd do much. I figured I could let him loose for a little while, if nothing else, and use that later as, heh, leverage when I needed his help. But that had been before I realized the size of the mess in Boston. I brought my rucksack down to the basement, found three boxes that had been on the Endless List, and put the skull on top of them. "Wake up, Bob."

The spirit's eyes lit up like candles, and immediately blazed and sparked like fireworks. "Whoa!"

"Yeah, welcome to Boston." I knew exactly how he felt. I put the sack on the shiny new workbench and sat on the shiny new stool.

"Ooof, headrush." Bob sorted himself out faster than I had, and his eyes rolled all around the sockets as he took in his surroundings. "Nice place. These Leverage people are taking good care of you, I see. Did you ever find out what it is they do?"

"I'm working on it."

"You know, Harry, it wouldn't have killed you to put me on a window during the train ride. It's been forever since I've really traveled."

"I was asleep for most of it."

"Liar," Bob sang back. "Are you wearing a sling?"

"I was trying to sleep for most of it. And yes." The shoulder was only occasionally throbbing, but Eliot had been very clear about wearing the sling as long as possible. "The Leverage people seem to have stepped into something a little beyond everyone's paygrade."

The spirit scoffed minutely. "Mortals."

"I'm not sure I'd have the arm to put in a sling if it weren't for them, so let's skip the pleasantries about that. I need to make a quick veil-shielding charm."

"Harry, you can't do that, you know that. A charm that can defend against a Veil needs to be attuned to, if not the Veil, then the wizard casting it, else it burns up."

"I'm fine with it burning up. I just need it to last five minutes. Two even." I couldn't even imagine the sheer amount of mayhem any of these people could do in two minutes. Or less, but I was trying to play it safe.

"What a waste of magic," Bob scoffed.

"Bob, focus. These are the same people who got you the boxes you're sitting on." The skull was sitting on top of three boxes full of paperback romances. I didn't question his unlife choices and Leverage hadn't questioned mine.

The spirit's attention turned inward briefly. "Well, I'm suddenly feeling a lot more generous toward our hosts," he declared, far too chipper. "Also, this city's making my teeth buzz. Anything that takes attention away from that is welcome."

"Oh, I have lots more questions for you, don't worry. The charm?"

"Did you bring the Vivendum with you? Page 253. By the way, Gottridge is lying, the charm works just as well in metal as it does glass, as long as it's not iron or lead."

I lifted one of the pins I'd found in the Lost & Found box. "How about pewter?"

"Ooo, tin and copper, perfect. If you get lucky, there might even be silver in there."

I found the Vivendum Grimoire, one of the books I'd brought with me from Chicago, found the spell to enchant the charms, and started rummaging about for sympathetic ingredients. Magic's all like that: sometimes you need something specific, but for the most part as long as you have something that sorta resonates with what you mean to do, you're fine. I found a heavy mortar and pestle first, and started throwing things in there: a lens and some colorful beach glass, a few plastic whistles. I tore strips out of a sheet of sandpaper, and emptied a bottle of perfume in. Then I started looking about for something to fill in the fifth slot. Gottridge recommended cheese, but everyone agreed that the man had had a dairy allergy.

"Rice," Bob said in a long-suffering tone. "Rice, Harry. If you cannot go to one extreme, go to the other."

I threw my last ingredient in, covered the mortar and started grinding. "Next question. Can you make a suppression spell into a suppression potion?"

Bob sucked in a breath. How, I didn't know, given he lacked every single element needed for it. "Yes, but it's not gonna taste good. Among other things."

"Other things?" I asked in between working the pestle.

"Think, Harry. The point of a spell is that you can dismiss it at will. If you drink the suppression, how are you going to dismiss it if you need your magic?"

"Can it be done so it's on a timer?"

"Tricky, but doable. And it's still going to taste like the bottom of a ditch. Why are you wearing a sling?"

"Because I dislocated my shoulder last night. Work out the recipe, please." The pestle began grinding more smoothly, so I gave all my focus to the spell. Bob knew better than to distract me, though I could all but feel those witch-light eyes burning into my back.

It wasn't hard, particularly because I didn't need it to be efficient, or good. Like I'd told Bob, I just needed the charms to do their thing long enough for my employers to get wise to a bad situation and bail. I worked the spell into the ingredients until I had fine, dust-colored dust on the bottom of the mortar; I scooped that into an empty salt shaker, sprinkled it all over the dozen or so pins I had ready, covered it all with a dish-cloth with sunflowers printed on it and left the magic to cook.

"You've been here barely a day and you dislocated you shoulder already?" Bob burst out as soon as the cloth settled.

"The suppression recipe, please."

"Harry!"

"It wasn't by choice!"

"That's worse!"

"Bob… These people live and work and do everything on computers. The suppression potion, please. Besides, they put it back already."

I got a recipe, and about ten minutes' worth of being lectured in between every step and ingredient, where Bob knew I couldn't get away or complain too much. "What do these people even do, did you ever figure that out?"

"Nope, and at this point I don't want to. Next question: what would it take to summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever?"

Bob went quiet. You wouldn't think this a bad thing unless you knew Bob. Unfortunately, I knew Bob.

"I mean, a couple of the wizards on the Council might be able to, if they can find one. If they can convince it to come through. Things that big, they don't like it on this side, Harry. It takes too much effort and they're not bright enough to put in the work themselves."

"Let me rephrase," I said as I tried to figure out if I had half the things I needed for the suppression potion. "What would it take for someone to instantly summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever to do their bidding?"

Bob went quiet again. His eyes were staring at me with an almost solid weight. "Harry, what aren't you telling me?"

"Too hard? Ok, here's another one: tell me every you know about Koschei."

The silence went on for so long that I would've thought him gone if it weren't for the eyes pinned on me. "Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Call the Council."

"Not an option."

"Harry, I know you. If you're asking leading questions about Koschei, it's because you've already met the man. You know for a fact he's here. You are involved, and that is the least safe thing you could be. This is beyond you, Harry. This might be beyond the Council, but at least if you call them it'll be them dying, not you." Bob was sounding very clipped and rushed; it was something I very rarely heard from him, I guess because when you're stuck in a skull there's not much to make you afraid anymore.

"I can't. Not with the War going on. Even if I did manage to get through to someone, I have no way of knowing if they'd have anyone to send. I'm here, now. This is the job."

"You can't take Koschei on! Harry, that's beyond suicide. He has a reputation for holding grudges for a reason!"

"That's a problem for future me. Present me still needs to know everything you can tell me about him -"

"I will not!"

"-because if you don't he's still coming after me, I just won't know when or where or how."

The skull somehow blew me a raspberry, and let out a highly infuriated sound. "What did you do?!"

I brought him up to speed while I worked on attuning a couple of compasses to the chalk I'd scrawled on the back of the portrait. Odds were the painting -sorry, the portrait- would be protected with the same anti-tracking magic on the key, but just in case it wasn't I wanted some way for the others to follow and find it, not just me.

"So he's here for his heart?" Bob saw me grimace as I worked. "You don't think so."

"No. It's been safe all this time, Bob, he has no reason to look it up now, particularly not so openly, so blatantly. If he just wanted the heart he could've gone into the museum at night, broken in by magic and taken it. No, he wants that portrait for another reason."

"And you're sure the woman's the Hag herself?"

"Ford thinks so. I haven't met her."

"I still don't like it."

"Oh, I'm thrilled as peaches about it, Bob," I told him, and all the sarcasm I'd learned from the damn skull came out with the words. "Really. I've met the man twice and both times he wiped the floor with me. I'm sure earning my paycheck."

"Harry, no one could ever pay you enough to face off against the Raven." Bob's voice went to a quieter note. "You're alive. Take the win."

"What'd you say?"

"I said take the win, you -"

"No, I mean, what'd you call him?"

"The Raven? The Blackbird? I wouldn't even be saying his name if we weren't in a circle that I'm sure you've closed. He's one of those people who are deeply attuned to any attention coming their way. You know the type. Opera singers. Politicians."

"So he can tell when someone says his name?"

"If he's listening. If he knows the person saying it. If there's enough intent, like with any other sort of magic. Why?"

I closed my eyes and focused on that morning. Koschei hadn't actually met Sophie; the vault hallway of the MFA had been dark, and I'd drawn his attention away just long enough that, by the time he'd caught up to us, Sophie had already bolted to go get Eliot.

Eliot, he knew. Unfortunately.

But he didn't know Ford. They hadn't even traded names at the bagel shop. More, Ford didn't believe. It didn't matter that he'd seen me actually throwing magic around, he was more like the sort of person I'm used to, the ones who wanted to explain it all away and forget it had ever happened.

So, just as we'd expected, he probably had a nebulous idea of where his stuff was - somewhere on the block, if he'd sniffed me out already. But he wouldn't know precisely where, and with the anti-tracker in place, he never would. "See, that's the sort of thing I need to know. How about sharing some fairy tales with me while I work on the suppression potion?"

Bob wasn't happy about it, but he also had a vested interest in keeping me alive, and it was going to be hard enough without suggesting one of his usual bargains. I spent the next hour setting up and preparing the suppression potion while he told me old Russian fairy tales and scared the crap out of me.

And yet.

The thing was, whenever I was on a case, things were usually happening so fast, coming at me from every direction, that most of the time I wasn't acting, I was reacting. That wasn't happening with the Leverage people; it couldn't. Whatever came at them, one of them knew how to deal with it and the rest knew to follow through.

Which included me.

I'd never realized it before, because I usually worked alone. I didn't have time to think through what I was doing, I barely had time to catch my breath, keep all my body parts attached to the body in question. But working with other people, capable people, I'd held my own. It wasn't gonna save me from Koschei, but it was kind of enlightening to know I could keep up with some of the smartest folk I'd ever met. Even if they were suspiciously criminally inclined.

I got the potion sorted out, dipped my finger and tried a taste, since I was pretty sure I was done doing magic until lunch, at the very least. It tasted about as bad as I'd expected. "Hey, Bob?"

"I don't have a tongue, I'm not tasting it for you."

"It's not that. I was just thinking, if you can see what's in those three boxes, you can probably do a general inventory -"

"Oh, here we go with the drudgery."

"- and I need to know if I've got what I need to make a mirror-mask -"

"Hey, Harry!" Eliot called out somewhere above me. "You home?"

"Inventory, Bob."

"There better be another box in it for me," he grumbled.

"Thanks." I stepped forward and focused on breaking the circle, except as soon as I stepped up to it it disappeared.

Right, suppression potion.

"Dresden!"

"Down here!" I set my foot on the stairs.

The doorbell rang. It was about as old as the house, and it seemed to be holding up well in my presence. It was certainly loud enough to nearly make me jump off the stairs. Eliot had just opened the basement door up top, and I saw him snap around like a wolf scenting prey. He put up a hand; I'd seen enough of the man to stop dead where I was.

He walked out of sight. I couldn't even hear his steps on the wooden floors. I only knew where he'd gone when the front door opened. I heard a woman's voice, I heard Eliot saying something back before he called out, "Dresden, someone here to see you."

That, I wasn't expecting. I trotted up the stairs, closed the door; Mouse was waiting for me there, ears perked and tail on the alert. He whuffled a warning.

Eliot shot me an equally wordless warning with his eyes before he stepped back, away from the door. There was a woman there with a kid, a young girl. I'm not good with children but she was old-ish, maybe twelve. Something like that.

When someone talks about someone who's not classically beautiful? The woman was the very definition of it. She was short, solid, very curvy, but even when she was just standing there there was a grace, a sort of unbreakable dignity that made you take notice. She was wearing a very prim business suit, gray skirt and jacket, white silk shirt, black shoes. She had dark hair done up in a very severe bun, dark skin the color of copper, sharp features mixed in with soft curves. Her eyes were black as midnight, with a ring of gold.

Her daughter had the ghost of her mother's beauty; she was quickly growing into it, though there was a bit of lanky to her that said her father was probably taller, definitely skinnier. She was wearing some sort of uniform, gray pleated skirt and white shirt, and she looked scared; she took one quick peek at me and immediately pinned her eyes down, but it was long enough for me to see she had her mother's eyes.

"You are wizard Dresden?" The woman had a thick, nearly impenetrable accent. She also had a printed sheet of paper with, of all things, my ad on the Chicago Yellow Pages on it. "Lost Items Found?" she recited.

"Uh -" I'm not good when I'm not under pressure. I usually get myself all hyped up and ready when I have to talk to a customer, be it on the phone or in my office back in Chicago. It didn't help when she suddenly started talking in a language that sounded a little bit like music and a lot like nothing I'd ever heard before. "Whoa. Ma'am. Ma'am, please."

"She wants to know if you're the man from the ad." Eliot's frown had changed to a look of curiosity.

"You sp -? What is sh -?"

"Wampanoag. Algonquian. It's a native - hold on." The woman had kept on talking, faster and faster, and Eliot put his hands up to stop her. "Ma'am, please, wait a minute -"

"Ma'am, he's human!" I shot at her, hating that I had to.

It worked. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open. She stepped back. "Sorry! Sorry! Am sorry! Am so sorry! I say nothing!"

Eliot fell back, confused, so I stepped forward. "It's fine. It's fine, ma'am. Yes, I'm Harry Dresden. Can we please move this inside?" I thought for a moment she was just going to bolt, but obviously whatever had made her track me down sight unseen, in Boston, had more weight than her fear of humans and she stepped in, her daughter keeping close.

"Dresden, what was that?" Eliot muttered.

"There's a thousand humans for every single supernatural in the world, and most of them come out shooting if they get so much as a whiff of anything weird. Never sell yourself short in a fight, Eliot, not that I think you would. Humans are the tactical nuke of the supernatural world."

"And scary accordingly?"

"It's just safer if humans don't find out what lives around them. Safer for everyone involved."

"Hardison wants to know why you're not blowing up the earbud."

"Suppression potion. Long story. No magic for me right now. I'd take it out, it's gonna wear off any minute."

We sat down. Mother and daughter laced hands, and the woman said something. Eliot opened his mouth, but the kid beat him to it. "We don't want any trouble. We didn't know you had humans with you. We don't know what the rules are for people in other cities."

"I'm a little looser on the rules than most wizards. Now, I'd love to ask how you tracked me down, but I'm more interested in why."

"I found you on the internet," the girl replied. "I told my mom. We had a friend sniff you out. It wasn't hard." The mother said something. "He said you smell like big water, like a lake."

"You found him by his smell?" Eliot sounded stunned. She shrugged. Her mother said something and he frowned. "I'm not sure I got that right, it wasn't Algonquian."

"It was Welsh," I said. "Wasn't it?" I looked at the two ladies sitting on a couch that had been, until five minutes ago, still wrapped in plastic. "Because there's no word for 'selkie' in the local tongue."

The mother finally found her courage. "You help us. You find lost items, yes? You help."

Well, the next part was gonna suck. I've been the victim of my share of raw deals in my day. There's been a lot of times when I've had to sit down, shut up and take it when someone's doling out misery. I'll never agree to leaving someone in that kind of situation, but there's rules of magic even I can't bend. "Not this one, no. Ma'am… did he take it fair?"

She drew herself up proudly. "Never fair. Never. You know, wizard. You know this."

"Wait, selkie, as in, the selkie? Seal-woman?" I saw Eliot go through every stage between disbelief and understanding in under five seconds. Then I saw dark, cold rage blot out the sunshine. "Her skin. Someone took her skin."

"Someone took her skin, what, twelve, thirteen years ago?" I asked the kid.

"Fourteen," she replied haughtily.

"That deal's done. It's like signing a contract, you might not like it, but you're stuck with it. The penalties for breaking it are… severe. And interfering is tricky. Interfering with magic into a selkie marriage tends to rebound, ricochet. Like a bullet. "Ma'am, I can't help you, I'm just - I'm a wizard. The rules apply to me same as everyone."

"No!" She snapped at me. "I no say -" She growled in frustration, then looked at her daughter and took a deep breath. "He find my skin. Take. Is law. I know. I no need you find my skin, wizard. I need you find my daughter's skin."

Oh, Hell's Bells.

Both Eliot and I turned to stare at the girl. Thirteen, fourteen years old. In some places, to some men that I couldn't legally set on fire, she was ready to be married.

"He took your daughter's skin," Eliot sounded ready to murder someone.

"Yes. You find."

"I'm… working -"

"Can you find her skin, Dresden?"

"There's a few things I could try?"

He smiled at the two seal-women. It almost looked like his usual sunshine smile, but I could see the murder still lurking somewhere behind it. "We'll do what we can, ma'am."

She sagged with relief and reached for her purse. "I pay -"

"No payment required," he told her pleasantly.

"But we'll need as much information as you can give us about your -" Even knowing Eliot felt the same as I did, even knowing I had both backup and permission to act, I still wanted to set someone on fire. I did my best to smile instead. Smile and reassure. "- your husband."

She had it all typed up neatly in another piece of paper she pulled out of her sensible purse, as well as a few hairs in a bit of plastic wrap and her contact information, which directed us to Sannah, her daughter. We saw them to the door, waved them away, and Eliot turned to face me. "Dresd- " The little bit of suppression potion I'd tasted chose that moment to run out, and he yanked the earbud out as it screeched angrily. He drew in a deep breath. "Is that for real? Someone took her skin and she had to marry him?"

"Yeah. Crap deal, with magic and hope keeping them tethered. As long as there's even a chance to get her skin back, she'll do anything, put up with anything."

His hands curled into fists. It took him a few moments and a couple of deep breaths to get past the first crest of anger; he was better at it than I was, I'd known about selkies for so much longer, and I was still angry at the whole situation. "So, how do you normally handle something like this?"

"Uh, I go to the library, look up the guy. Tail him, on foot or by magic, see if he goes any place that isn't home or work. Find out where the skin is, report back to her with the location."

"Wh- That's it? There's no… explosions, no fighting?"

"He's human. Anyone else would know to give the skin back. A selkie's skin is bad luck on an impressive scale to anyone but the owner, it's why you can't use magic to break up the marriage."

"So he'd be using human means to keep the skins." He looked very thoughtful.

"Probably, yes."

A slow, wicked grin bloomed on the man's face that made me feel as if we were about to do some very bad things to some very bad people. It was a good feeling after having Koschei wipe the floor with us. Me, mostly. "Good. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Out of the dark ages and into the age of the geek. Unless you're in the middle of something?"

"Nothing that can't wait." Yeah, ok, I was curious to see how Leverage dealt with a supernatural challenge, even if it was a relatively minor one.

[scotianostra]

On 21st July 1796 Robert Burns died passed away in Dumfries.

Robert Burns only lived to the age of 37. There has been much speculation over how Robert Burns died, and due to lack of scientific evidence from the time, no one can be certain. Many have pointed towards alcohol abuse as a contributing factor to his failing health and untimely death, although this too has been widely disputed

This has been a long-held belief first put forward by Dr James Currie, who was tasked with putting together an anthology of Burns’ work following his death.

However, Currie’s account of Burns’ death has been debated for years, with many believing he exaggerated Burns’ drinking habits due to his own dislike for the habit, as Currie himself was a recovering alcoholic.

It is also believed that Burns’ may have had an unknown rheumatic heart condition, that a heavy-drinking lifestyle could well have aggravated.

What is known is that he died in Dumfries in a two-storey red sandstone house on Mill Hole Brae, which is now known as Burns Street

His home is now a museum in his memory, and he was first laid to rest in Dumfries’ St. Michael’s Churchyard in Dumfries.

His body was eventually moved to its final location in the same cemetery to the Burns Mausoleum in September 1817. The body of his widow Jean Armour was buried with him in 1834.

[crockettmarcel]

160 location prompts

credit to spaceskam (it bothered me that the keep reading opened a new post instead of. showing the rest of it lol)

1. Kitchen 2. Closet 3. Stairway 4. Foyer 5. Art gallery 6. Museum (history, wax, science, etc) 7. Library  8. Bathroom 9. Hospital 10. Church 11. Funeral home 12. Wedding venue 13. Parking lot 14. Bookstore 15. Flower shop

16. Grocery store 17. Coffee shop 18. Tattoo parlor 19. Bar 20. Their bedroom 21. Office cubicle 22. Pool house 23. Living room 24. Hallway 25. Balcony 26. Roof 27. Basement 28. Attic 29. Art studio 30. Salon/barber shop 31. Game room 32. Locker room 33. Classroom 34. Computer lab 35. Dressing room 36. Ski lift 37. Pool table 38. Fountain 39. Bleachers 40. Playground  41. Train tracks 42. Ice rink 43. Hot spring 44. Junkyard 45. Golf course 46. Boxing ring 47. Hardware store 48. Club 49. Lighthouse 50. Laundromat 51. Carnival/fair 52. Zoo 53. Police station 54. Abandoned building 55. Ambulance 56. Bakery 57. Cruise ship 58. Practice room 59. Basketball court 60. Football field 61. Waiting room 62. Tennis court 63. Track 64. Cemetery 65. Gas station 66. Summer camp 67. Garden 68. Bank 69. Workshop 70. Ballroom 71. Wine cellar 72. Lakehouse 73. Cabin 74. Boat 75. Bus 76. Plane 77. Study 78. Garage 79. Guest room 80. Someone else’s room 81. Backyard 82. Shed 83. Motel room 84. Playroom (innocent or not) 85. Darkroom 86. Throne room 87. Dungeon 88. Forest 89. Cave 90. Lobby 91. Choir room 92. Auditorium 93. Tearoom 94. Car 95. Lake 96. Park 97. Armory 98. Tent 99. Stockroom 100. Storm cellar 101. Pool 102. Ocean 103. Arcade 104. Sauna 105. Car wash 106. Baseball park 107. Fire station 108. Skate park 109. Barn 110. Ski lodge 111. Photo booth 112. Restaurant 113. Diner 114. Casino 115. Aquarium  116. Daycare 117. Pantry 118. Laundry room 119. Boudoir  120. Sunroom 121. Panic room 122. Greenhouse 123. Mechanic shop 124. Bed of a truck 125. Desert 126. Front porch 127. Back porch 128. Rollercoaster 129. Movie theater 130. Airport 131. Dormitory 132. Boardroom 133. Dining room 134. Ferris wheel 135. Train 136. Weight room 137. Elevator 138. Party 139. Sidewalk 140. Street 141. Deer stand 142. Bridge 143. Orchestra pit 144. Stage 145. Field 146. Cliff 147. Drive-in 148. Ball pit 149. Picnic table 150. Treehouse 151. Blanket fort 152. Bowling alley 153. Alleyway 154. Dock 155. Under a tree 156. Race track 157. Green room 158. Furniture store 159. Beside a bonfire 160. In a hammock

[goexploregreece]

The magic of Hydra, where time stands still, and cars and motorbikes are banned.

Hydra is a captivating island that belongs to the Saronic Gulf group of islands between the Saronic Gulf and the Argolic Gulf. It's about 37 miles southwest of Athens and near other popular islands like Aegina, Poros, and Spetses.

Hydra might not be the largest island out there, but it certainly packs a punch when it comes to charm and beauty.

To reach Hydra, hop on one of the high-speed ferries or flying dolphins from Piraeus, the port of Athens. In just about 1.5-2 hours, you'll find yourself in a world that seems to be frozen in time.

Hydra is famous for its distinctive architecture, unspoiled natural beauty, and the fact that no cars and motorbikes are allowed on the island.

That's right – it's a haven for those who want to escape the hustle and bustle of city life. Instead, donkeys, bicycles, and your own two feet are the main modes of transport here.

As for what the island produces, it's all about almonds, pistachios, olives, and honey. You'll find these delectable treats in many local products, so remember to bring some home.

Now, let's discuss the top three things to do in Hydra:

1. Stroll around Hydra Town: The picturesque harbour is surrounded by 18th-century stone mansions and narrow, cobbled streets waiting to be explored. You'll find art galleries, boutiques, and plenty of cafes to relax in.

2. Visit the Historical Archives Museum: This museum gives you a glimpse into Hydra's rich history. The collections include manuscripts, paintings, and artefacts from the island's maritime past.

3. Relax on the beaches: Although Hydra isn't known for sandy beaches, some lovely spots remain to unwind. Head to Vlychos, Kaminia, or Mandraki for a refreshing swim and sunbathing.

[things-to-do-washington-dc]

Co-Living in Washington DC

Are you seeking for a comfortable co-living in Washington, DC? Then, the apartment rentals on Dahlia Street NW from Clover at The Parks is the No.1 choice. Dahlia Street NW apartments are well-liked because of their excellent location and luxurious features. These apartment are specifically situated for the convenience of the residents. It's very accessible to go to the parks, stores, and restaurants in the area. In fact, this makes these apartments highly sought for. Get the co-living spaces you're looking for, plus, the modern finishes, roomy floor plans, and practical features like a fully-stocked fitness facility, club lounge, bar, mail room, BBQ grills, courtyard lounge, and more. For further information on apartments, give Clover at The Parks' leasing office a call at (771) 777-9757.

Pros of Living in Washington, DC

Washington, DC, has an extensive public transportation network, including the Metro, buses, and bike-share programs, which makes it one of the best cities in the USA for commuting and accessing amenities. This system reduces traffic congestion and pollution, which makes living in D.C. a convenient one. However, the city also faces seasonal weather extremes, with hot summers and cold winters. The summer months can be particularly hot, while winters can bring significant snowfall and icy conditions, but these weather seasons are all perfect for what we call balance. Also, the diverse culinary scenes in Washington offer an array of international and American cuisines, including Michelin-starred restaurants, food trucks, farmers' markets, specialty food shops, and food festivals. Washington is a foodie's paradise, and it enhances the city's cultural richness.

Smithsonian Institution

The Smithsonian Institution is a place that everyone should visit. If you're interested in history, culture, and science, the Smithsonian Institution is a great place. This vast complex of museums offers a wide range of exhibits in art, history, science, and culture. I like that this institution offers a free admission so it's a great place to learn something new, explore diverse cultures, and be inspired. There's something for everyone to enjoy from the National Air and Space Museum to the National Museum of Natural History. With its world-class collections and engaging exhibits, the Smithsonian Institution is a truly unforgettable experience for all its visitors.

Johnny Cash Statue Heads to Washington

A statue of Johnny Cash, sculpted by artist Kevin Kresse, is set to be unveiled in Washington, D.C., at the U.S. Capitol. The eight-foot-tall statue is the second from Arkansas to replace two existing statues representing the state at the Capitol. The statue, enclosed in a wooden crate behind a tractor-trailer, will be unveiled on September 24. Arkansas sent the statue to replace two existing ones at the Capitol for over 100 years. The Legislature 2019 voted to replace the two statues with Bates and Cash. Cash, born in Kingsland, Arkansas, died in 2003 at 71. He was among the few artists inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Link to Map Driving Direction

Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History 10th St. & Constitution Ave. NW, Washington, DC 20560, United States

Head west on Constitution Ave. NW toward 12th St NW 37 sec (0.1 mi)

Turn right onto 12th St NW 3 min (0.5 mi)

Take 16th St NW to Fort Stevens Dr NW 21 min (4.8 mi)

Turn right onto Fort Stevens Dr NW 2 min (0.4 mi)

Drive to Georgia Ave NW 3 min (0.9 mi)

Clover at The Parks 1155 Dahlia St NW, Washington, DC 20012, United States

[boundlessexpeditions]

Explore Delaware's top 10 must-visit places in this ultimate travel guide! Discover Delaware, the first state of the union and a hidden gem on the East Coast! In this ultimate Delaware Travel Guide, we explore the Top 10 Best Places to Visit in Delaware, from stunning beaches to historic towns and vibrant cities. Whether you're planning a coastal getaway or a journey through rich history, Delaware offers a unique blend of scenic beauty, cultural experiences, and outdoor adventures. Join us as we take you through Rehoboth Beach, Cape Henlopen State Park, Historic New Castle, and more! This guide is perfect for travelers seeking the best that Delaware has to offer, whether you’re a history buff, nature lover, or looking for a peaceful escape. Watch now to uncover Delaware's top attractions and hidden gems: Rehoboth Beach - A lively coastal town with a charming boardwalk and family-friendly atmosphere. Historic New Castle - Step back in time in this picturesque town with cobblestone streets and colonial architecture. Cape Henlopen State Park - Explore this coastal wonderland filled with outdoor adventures and historical sites. Lewis - Delaware’s first town, offering a delightful mix of history and seaside charm. Wilmington - A vibrant city with a rich cultural scene and beautiful parks. Winterthur Museum, Garden, and Library - Experience timeless beauty in this grand estate and breathtaking gardens. Dover - The state capital, home to historic landmarks and thrilling experiences at Dover International Speedway. Bethany Beach - A serene seaside haven perfect for relaxation and family fun. Fenwick Island - A peaceful coastal retreat with unspoiled beaches and outdoor activities. Delaware Water Gap - A natural wonder straddling the border with Pennsylvania, offering breathtaking views and outdoor adventures. Don’t miss out on these must-see destinations in Delaware! Hit the subscribe button for more travel guides and tips, and let us know in the comments which Delaware spot you’re most excited to visit. Happy travels! #Top10BestPlacestoVisitInDelaware #DelawareTravelGuide #DelawareTourism #ExploreDelaware #VisitDelaware ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ➡️ Click on the Community tab now and join the fun! We can't wait to see you there. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 📌 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬: 0:00 Introduction 0:35 Rehoboth Beach - A Coastal Gem 1:18 Historic New Castle - A Step Back in Time 2:10 Cape Henlopen State Park - A Coastal Wonderland 2:54 Lewis - The First Town in the First State 3:39 Wilmington - A Blend of Urban Excitement and Cultural Richness 4:25 Winterthur Museum, Garden, and Library - Elegance and Enchantment 5:10 Dover - Delaware’s Vibrant Capital 5:53 Bethany Beach - A Hidden Gem of Relaxation 6:37 Fenwick Island - A Serene Slice of Paradise 7:24 Delaware Water Gap - An Awe-Inspiring Natural Wonder 8:02 Conclusion - Delaware Has It All ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆: As an affiliate, I may earn a commission from qualifying purchases made through links in this video's description. They are at no extra cost to you. Top 10 Best Places to Visit in Delaware | Delaware Travel Guide published first on https://www.youtube.com/@BoundlessExpeditions/

[cielosbrooks]

Historical Military Housing in San Antonio

Immerse yourself in the rich history of San Antonio and live in one of its most distinctive locations! San Antonio's historical military housing offers a delightful combination of heritage and contemporary luxury. Los Cielos at Brooks is a stunning example of old and modern historical military housing in San Antonio. Enjoy the benefits of modern apartment renovations, including updated kitchens, energy-efficient appliances, and beautiful finishes, creating a pleasant and practical living environment. Beyond your doorstep, you'll experience the energy of a revitalized neighborhood. The streets are filled with trendy stores, art galleries, and local eateries, while green spaces and parks offer a peaceful escape. Each home boasts an attached two-car garage for convenience, and modern fixtures to add a touch of luxury. To schedule a tour at Los Cielos, call (210) 796-6991.

Excellent Education San Antonio, TX, Offers

I know that as parents, you want to give your kids the gift of a bright future in San Antonio! Don't worry because this vibrant city boasts a strong network of public and private schools, ensuring that your children receive an excellent education. The highly qualified teachers and diverse academic programs empower students to reach their full potential. Then, many schools offer extracurricular activities like sports teams and arts programs, fostering well-rounded development. Plus, San Antonio's safe and friendly communities provide the perfect environment for your children to thrive.

San Antonio Museum of Art

Journey through time and cultures at the San Antonio Museum of Art! This renowned institution houses an impressive collection spanning over 5,000 years. This is one of the most beautiful places to visit, especially if you are interested in history. Explore the ancient Egyptian mummies, marvel at European masterpieces, or get inspired by contemporary works. This museum offers something for everyone to see, from ancient artifacts to modern installations. Plus, there's an interactive exhibit and special event to bring art to life, while docent tours delve deeper into specific movements or artists. You can also unleash your inner artist at creative workshops or wander through the galleries, soaking in the beauty and history.

Dora and Scavenger Hunt at San Antonio Zoo

The San Antonio Zoo is introducing a new Dora series and a themed scavenger hunt this summer. These interactive activities will occur every Saturday at 10 a.m. from July 6 to September 14, with limited space available on a first-come, first-served basis. Zoo members and standard admission ticket purchases can enjoy exclusive showings of the new Dora series. The scavenger hunt is also available at the Guest Experience office at the zoo entrance. The interactive activities and standard admission ticket purchases will be available to Zoo members. The space is limited, and the scavenger hunt is available at the Guest Experience office.

Link to map

San Antonio Museum of Art 200 W Jones Ave, San Antonio, TX 78215, United States Get on I-37 S/US-281 S 4 min (1.4 mi) Follow I-37 S/US-281 S to Pecan Valley Dr. Take exit 136 from I-37 S/US-281 S 6 min (6.1 mi) Continue on Pecan Valley Dr. Take S New Braunfels Ave to Josue Sanchez 5 min (1.6 mi) Los Cielos at Brooks 7722 Calle Coyote, San Antonio, TX 78235, United States