#float tank tuesday

[rinnysega]

First Sunday using the new self care deck after my tarot reading, and this is absolutely calling me to book another float session again 👏💕

[thebirdandthebee]

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. ��I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow.  He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?” 

[togrowoldinv]

Dinner and a Show

Firefighter!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha calls you to the firehouse and puts on a show for you

Warnings: Kissing, grinding, pole dancing, allusions to more

Note: Woohoo more firefighter Nat! This is a part of my Burning Red AU. Follow my library blog @togrowoldinvlibrary for fic updates!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha rests her cheek on your chest as you relax in bed together. Her soft red hair feels like heaven as you run your hand through it.

“Any plans for this weekend?” You break the comfortable silence the two of you were in.

She lifts her head and shifts to lean on her elbow and look down at you. Her hand comes to your cheek softly and her thumb rubs your cheek softly.

“I have to work,” she says with a small pout. You want to lean up and kiss it away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you assure her. “You go be a hero and we can see each other on Monday or Tuesday?”

“Sounds good, sweetheart. I have a shift in,” she breaks to look at her watch, “about thirty minutes. Damn, I have to get going.”

“Please don’t go,” you playfully beg her with a pout of your own.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she says. “I promise.”

She leaves you with a kiss. You watch as her perfect body floats out of the room.

The day drags by slowly and by the next morning all you can think about is Natasha. And it appears she’s thinking about you too as your phone rings.

“Hey sweetheart,” her raspy voice comes through the phone.

“Hi Natasha. How’s work going?”

“It’s pretty slow. Most of the crew is out today working at an event, but I’m manning the station,” Natasha explains.

“I see.”

“I miss you,” she blurts out. It hasn’t bern that long since you got together, but missing each other comes so naturally.

“I miss you too,” you say. “What time do you get off tonight? I actually think I can’t wait until Monday to see you.”

You swear you can hear her thinking on the other end of the line.

“Why don’t you come by for dinner? I’ll make you something here and we can eat together,” Natasha suggests.

“Is that allowed?”

“There’s no rule against it. See you at 6?” She asks.

“Sounds perfect,” you agree.

Remembering your first time at the firehouse, you take your time to get ready to see Natasha. You go casual with the outfit, but under your clothes you wear red lingerie that you know she loves.

When you get to the firehouse, she meets you at the door. She hugs you tightly.

“You look great,” you tell her.

“Mm, so do you,” she compliments. “Come with me.”

The smirk on her face should’ve been indication that you’re here for much more than just dinner, but you are too distracted by her in her uniform to notice her motives.

She stops walking before you get to the kitchen.

“So, I was thinking maybe I’d give you dinner and a show,” Natasha says. It’s then you notice her hand on the firefighter’s pole.

“Oh-“

“If you want, of course.”

“I want,” you blurt out maybe a little too quickly. “I want a lot.”

“Perfect. Sit down, baby,” she instructs you. You sit in the chair that she conveniently had in the room.

You watch on as Nat slips off her jacket. She went with a tank top and you try to memorize the shape of her muscles. Nat walks towards you and straddles your lap. She hovers over you, but doesn’t dare to touch you where you want her most. You try move your hands to her arms, but she stops you. She pins them to your sides.

“Be a good girl and don’t touch me, okay? Not until I’m done at least. Then maybe I will you let touch me,” Nat commands. You nod. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Okay, yes.”

She leaves your lap after a deep kiss to your lips. You watch as she waltzes to the pole. You had no idea she could do this, but by the way she expertly moves around it, she’s done this before.

She keeps eye contact with you as she slides down the pole and then takes off her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. The way her breasts look as she moves onto the pole again threatens to make you audibly moan.

Nat ditches her pants along the way too and she’s wearing lacy underwear.

“Natasha,” you whine her name as she finishes her dance and moves towards you.

“Would you like to fuck me?” She asks. You look at her with wide eyes. Your face is hot from the way she looks at you.

“Yes please,” you say.

She settles on your lap once again, but this time she lets you touch her. Your hands go to her breasts and she moans. Her head dips back in pleasure as you lean forward and take her nipple into your mouth.

“Fuck baby, yes,” Natasha says. “Keep going.”

You switch breasts and she grinds herself against your thigh. You wish you could feel her wetness against you.

Suddenly, there’s a siren blaring throughout the firehouse.

“Shit,” Natasha says, but she doesn’t stop her grinding.

“Natasha,” you mumble against her chest. “The alarm.”

“I know, I know,” she says with a sigh.

She stands up abruptly and throws her clothes back on. You pout as she walks to kiss you goodbye.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll finish this later. Keep that lingerie on, please?”

“How did you-“

“I know things,” she says with a smirk. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You stand up and Natasha kisses you goodbye. She tries to linger but the sirens are calling her name.

She hops in the truck and drives off into the road. You are awestruck at her heroics once again.

You’re not going to forget what you saw today for a long time.

And you can’t wait for Natasha to get home tonight.

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit’s Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: Descriptions of a panic attack, vague angst, Nick is kind of a dick (but we love him anyway!)

*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.2K

Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

Author’s Note: Thank you @darksigns-exe for planting this seed, thank you @ladyveronikawrites for the beta, thank you @concretenoah and @circle-with-me for allowing me to talk about this shit constantly. This series, to me, is a big bad scary thing. I’ve been mulling it for a while. Feedback is appreciated but please be gentle with me 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

“Tuesdays are our worst nights. We don’t even have a stage.”

When Jolly had floated the idea of an open mic night 2 weeks ago, Nick had thought it was a joke. Open mic night, sure, perfect idea for a Tuesday night in an almost-failing dive.

Bud thinks it’s a good idea, he’d said. Bud hasn’t been into the bar on a Tuesday in months, hasn’t shown up at all in almost as long. He has no idea what a ghost town this place can be—always is on Tuesday nights. Nick had agreed, but he was clearly being funny. Can no one sense his tone anymore?

“We moved some tables. It’ll be fine,” Jolly says, and Nick just has to laugh. Moved some tables. “Not so empty tonight, is it? Look around you, Nicholas, we’re full. Gavin’s turning people away at the door.”

He can’t imagine why anyone is being turned away—in front of him, he only sees mostly empty bar stools and a couple of unoccupied tables. A little busier than their typical Tuesday night, sure, but he’s still not impressed.

“Gavin’s a fucking idiot.” Nick says, shaking his head, resigning himself to the idiocy that is this night. “These fucks better tip cash or I’ll deck someone.”

He doesn’t know how many more Alanis Morrissette covers he can handle. The spoken word is worse. The Bob Dylan impersonator was unbearably painful. The recorder felt a little bit like a joke, and if it was, it was his favorite performance of the night.

He hates open mic nights. He took the job here 8 years ago specifically because it’s the exact type of dump that doesn’t buy into this shit. He hates it when he’s proven wrong. He’ll demand he be able to pre-screen everyone for next week, if god forbid Jolly allows this to continue.

He does have to admit the tips have been good—he may even be able to fill his tank—but when Folio comes out of the back with a glass full of offending green leaves, Nick has to take a deep breath to keep himself from losing his mind.

More changes. More tiny, stupid changes that won’t do anything to actually improve the direction that this bar is heading. All of Nick’s perfectly-reasonable suggestions have gone ignored, but sure, mint will revive the place.

“What are you doing with mint?” Nick scoffs, and Folio has the nerve to laugh at him.

“Jolly said that Bud wants us to be able to make mojitos. The new crowd brought in by the open mic night might want them.” 

“This is a dive bar. I’m not making mojitos.”

“No one even orders—”

Nick’s attention is taken elsewhere when a soft-looking, long-haired, too-tall, pretty-faced boy with a guitar shows up on the stage. Rather, the special spot of the floor where tables used to be.

Nick’s first thought is that he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s off-put by the buzzy feeling in his tummy about it and pushes it away. He can’t focus on that. When the boy introduces himself, painfully earnest, Nick is too zoned out to catch a name. Instead, he’s focused on the way his pretty lips move dangerously close to the microphone. 

The first chords played take him out of his thoughts.

The melody bubbles up a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. 706 days, not that he’s counting. When he starts singing, Nick’s stomach drops and his head spins.

Traveling, swallowing, dramamine—

He’ll be sick. He can’t see anything. He can’t breathe.

“Folio, watch the bar. I’ll be—” Nick starts to storm off, “—just watch it for me, okay?” he yells, not bothering to wait for an affirmative or consider the fact that Folio couldn’t make more than a Jack and Coke if he tried. He has to get the fuck out of here.

He slams through the front door to see Gavin in front of a short line of people, flirting with a girl who can’t be 21 years old. He should have gone out back, but he can’t bring himself to even scoff, taking a hard left and slipping into an alleyway.

His legs give out beneath him—he slumps against the brick wall, hard against his back. He can’t catch his breath and his vision is blacking. 

He can still hear the song playing through the walls, cursing the fact that of course the better sound system last year was Nick’s one suggestion that actually went through. He closes his eyes and he sees hers. The only thing he can focus on as he gasps for air is keeping his eyes open.

He remembers what that useless therapist told him about breathing into a paper bag. He thinks now that it sounds ridiculous, but he’s going to lose consciousness and he has a $20 in his wallet that he really can’t afford to lose.

He finds a nasty, grease-soaked bag on the ground by his feet. He pushes thoughts away of any diseases he could contract when he closes the opening around his nose and mouth. Normal breathing. In, out. Thank god the music has stopped. In, out, in, out. 12 breaths. He feels foolish, but a little less like he’s going to die on the ground of this alley tonight, and his vision is clearing.

He sits for a moment and really laments the fact that he can’t go back in there. He can’t go back in there and pretend he wasn’t breathing in someone else’s old burger on the wet ground of an alleyway, but Folio can’t make a drink and he needs those tips.

“You okay, man?” Folio asks, clapping him on the back when Nick sneaks back in behind the bar. 

Every once in a while, the sunshiny persona of the barback Nick never asked for nor needed almost has the ability to bring a smile to his face, but right now it takes all his might to not cringe away from the touch.

“All good, Folio, thanks.”

He shifts his eyes to see Jolly putting the mic stand away, moving tables back, and table after table of unfamiliar faces leaving the bar. No more tips tonight, but he’s grateful for the impending peace and quiet of a now normal Tuesday night at The Rabbit’s Foot.

He sees the singer approaching the bar and he finds it difficult to make eye contact. 

“ID,” Nick says, without so much as a hello. He can tell he’s old enough but he wishes he’d caught his name, and this way he doesn’t have to ask. Noah Sebastian Davis, he reads. Brown eyes. 6’3”. 1995. Too pretty. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I have a mojito?” Noah asks, cringing when Nick barely tries and ultimately fails to hide his scoff.

“No mint,” he says, but Noah points to the little container Folio had brought out earlier. Nick picks up the dish, handing it off to Folio. “Little prank. It’s spinach.”

Noah narrows his eyes. Too pretty.

“I’m not making you a mojito, pretty boy. It’s after 11, you can have a beer. Cash only.”

Noah rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. It’s a little too toothy and it makes Nick’s stomach swoop. “I have cash. Yuengling is fine.”

“That I can do,” Nick says, pushing away the butterflies when he hands the bottle off and their fingers touch.

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Here’s a short part that I was able to get written prior to my relationship exploding on me. I wanted to put this out now, because it’s a completed thought. Hopefully I’ll be able to get the next one out sometime this weekend. It’s filler, but I liked it. No real plot development here.

Warnings: Very mild smut, and still got descriptions of vomiting (not as bad as the last part).

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 8 - Running Up That Hill

The first thing I noticed when my eyes cracked open was that the bed was empty. My arm stretched out long to her side of the bed, and a breath fell out of me.

Mileena and I had fallen asleep sometime around 10PM, another movie started. I turned to look at the clock on my nightstand, seeing it was about 5AM.

Something had woken me, but I wasn’t sure what. I noticed her jeans still folded neatly on the dresser, so I doubted she had left. Maybe I felt her get up?

I let my eyes fall closed again, but they shot open when I heard the sound of gagging from the bathroom.

Uh-oh.

I stood to my feet, noticing the now familiar ache in my back was more relaxed, and my stomach didn’t heave at becoming upright as it had the last two days. I silently praised the universe for it.

Making my way to the bathroom, I noticed the door was cracked, so I swung it open, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

“Leena?”

The sight in front of me was just short of pathetic, and my heart pulled as I saw her, knees tucked underneath her, sweat built on her brow bone, body arched over the toilet, spitting the last of the vomit out of her mouth.

She held a finger up at me. “Not a fucking word.”

I smirked, smug.

I’ll be fine. I’m not worried about getting sick.

“I’ll go get the Zofran.”

“Yeah, she’s got it.” I shrugged into the phone.

“Ugh, I warned her to just let you suffer through it alone.” Laura’s voice was annoyed.

“I’m sorry?” I snorted. “Look, I’m feeling pretty good now. If you want to drop Addie off, I’m sure I can handle her while helping Leena get back into good health.”

“And risk my sweet precious angel baby getting the virus? Absolutely not.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, we are her parents.”

Laura scoffed. “And I am her Godmother. Me and Nick are taking her to the aquarium. We can handle her one more day. But I will have to drop her off Tuesday morning. I have to get back to work.”

I shrugged. “Can we at least FaceTime with her later? She’s going to think we abandoned her.”

“Yes. You can. Just don’t float your germs through cyberspace. Keep that shit away from us.”

I chuckled before hanging up, bounding back up the stairs.

“Babe?” I walked back in the room, armed with water and nausea meds, but what I found made me soften a moment.

Mileena was curled up on the bathroom floor, head resting on a folded towel, eyes closed and shivering.

“Oh, baby.” I set down the items in my hand on the bathroom counter and walked over to her.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m done.” Her words were muddied together and whiny.

“Well, we’ll bring the can in bed. You can’t lay on the floor, that’s gross.”

She groaned. “I’m gross.” A cry came out of her and her big brown eyes peered up at me, full of despair. “I puked in my hair!”

I couldn’t help it, I let out a hard laugh at that. Her eyes narrowed,

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m dying!”

This only made me laugh harder as I put a hand under her head and lifted her from the rug, forcing her to stand,

“Then let’s get you cleaned up and laid to rest, yeah?”

She just nodded, a pout on her lips.

I pulled at the hem of Leena’s tank top, her arms lifting while I pulled it over her head. I reached an arm around her back to unclasp her bra, letting it fall.

Taking in a sharp breath, I noticed the goosebumps rising on her breasts, her nipples hard from the feverish virus running through her. I tried to maintain my respect while I pulled her pants and underwear down at once, noticing the tuft of hair between her legs.

I was definitely feeling better.

In an attempt to distract myself, I turned and flipped the shower on, turning it to warm.

“You want help?”

She looked so small. Nodding at me, she stepped a foot in the shower, hissing when the water touched her skin. Wasting no time, I slipped my own clothes off, and stepped under the warm spray. Her eyes were closed as she balled herself up in the corner, avoiding the sensation.

I reached a hand for her, pulling her arm to bring her under the water, making her lean her head back so the warmth could cover her head and scalp.

“Mm,” She let her eyes close, leaning into me for as much warmth as she could get.

Respect, Noah. Be respectful.

My dick apparently had none, as I felt it growing against her, so I shifted my hips to relieve the contact.

A dark, raspy laugh came out of her mouth. “If only we weren’t so sick, huh?”

I squeezed some shampoo into my hand, reaching behind her to lather her hair. “Yeah, if only.”

My fingers massaged her scalp, and worked the soap into the ends of her hair, leaving no evidence of throw up behind. She pressed her head into my chest as I maneuvered her under the water to rinse.

Making quick work of washing her, not dwelling on the parts of her body I ached to touch, I turned the water off and grabbed the hanging towel, wrapping it around her.

“Give me a sec.” I had to step onto the rug, grabbing another towel from the underneath of the sink, and wrapped myself.

When I opened the curtain, Leena had a look on her face that startled me. Her mouth was held tightly shut before she stepped out of the shower hastily, leaning back over the bowl and beginning to vomit again. I slumped forward, catching her hair before it landed in the line of fire.

It was going to be a long day.

-

Three Zofran, two water bottles, five movies, and one sleeve of Saltines later, I was laid on the couch, Mileena dead weight on top of me, while I finished the last half of The Exorcist, munching on a piece of toast I had made several hours earlier. Her breath was soft, brushing across my face as she slept. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but I would rather die than disturb her.

Her waist was laid over my right hip, her chest pressed against my stomach. One arm was tucked underneath her head, and the other fallen off of the edge of the couch. She had one leg on either side of my right, and I had the large blanket draped over us both. I was wearing my boxers and a t-shirt only, while she was in my newest Omens merch shirt, and also a pair of my boxers.

The hand that I wasn't balancing the slice of bread in was holding her to me, weighted comfort helping her sleep off the stomach flu that had gripped us both.

I had been feeling better today, no puking spells or fever, just taking it easy on my stomach and staying hydrated. Mileena's fever had broken a few hours ago after the last time she puked. She said she didn't have body aches so bad after the shower, and she was hoping she had a lesser version of my illness. I hoped so too; I hated seeing her so miserable.

I set the crust of my toast on the plate, using my now free hand to lift her fallen arm and tuck it into my side, nuzzling the top of her head with my nose, relishing that she smelled like my shampoo. Once again, I was taking all I could get.

I felt her stir, so I stilled, fearing I would wake her.

"Mmm." She hummed, and I wasn't sure if she was still asleep or not. One of her knees bent up, adjusting.

I took the opportunity to shift my hips into a slightly more comfortable position. My body froze, however, when I felt her body rut against my leg, her crotch grinding hard into my thigh. My hands lifted off of her, eyes blown wide.

She was just adjusting...right?

I stayed stone still, fearing I would misconstrue the situation further.

That is, until she gasped hard, pressing herself into me again.

Oh my fucking God.

She was sleeping, eyes still closed, lids fluttering gently.

"Noah." The word came out as a breath, so low that had I not been laying underneath her, I was sure I wouldn't have heard it.

My brain scrambled, racing and stuttering all at the same time, my own arousal growing between my legs. Fucking hell, this girl was going to actually fucking kill me.

"Hmm." She wined, now picking up a rhythm against my leg, fingers now digging into my side. For fear that she was going to throw herself onto the floor with her movements, my arms came back down, locking her into place.

It was wrong, and I knew that, but Jesus fucking Christ if this wasn't the sexiest fucking thing I had ever witnessed, I was insane.

"Noah..." The words drew out slow off her lips, her face turning slightly to breathe into my shirt.

She was going at it hard now, grinding onto the skin of my thigh, the center of the boxers she wore growing more and more damp as the seconds passed.

I swallowed hard, losing my fucking mind at what I decided to do. "I'm here, baby." My voice whispered low into her ear, not wanting to pull her from her dream.

"Mm, fuck." Her breathing was so rough, her voice hoarse.

"That's it, Princess." I urged her through it, listening to her soft whimpers, my cock twitching with each of her thrusts. "I've got you."

Her mouth was open, panting like a dog against me.

"Ugh, I'm-" Her words cut off, fingers gripping my shirt hard enough to rip.

"Come for me, baby."

I heard a short cry, followed by a long, satisfied sigh before the skin of my leg was drenched in her climax.

I groaned quietly, my dick begging for friction, which I couldn't grant.

It was bad enough I talked her through a sex dream without her knowing, but to then touch myself while she was still asleep? How much of a creep was I trying to be?

Instead, I pulled her closer, snuggling back down under the blanket.

[remembertheplunge]

Two men with no choice but to be there

May 18, 1995

Donald had a stroke. He was too ill to talk to me tonight on the phone. Pat was there, caring for them both, Donald and his Mom. I said I’d be there Sunday AM for a visit.

May 21, 1995

Drove to Patterson to take Donald donuts and fresh flowers. He and his Mom were thrilled.

Donald now loses his hearing.

May 22, 1995. Monday

Talked with Donald tonight. He sounded drifty, floating. Yet, he was crystal precise as to fact and time. I told him that I was very concerned about his physical deterioration. His 84 year old Mom can’t care for him alone.

July 6, 1995

 My Mom said to me tonight “Don’t match up with a person with Aids again soon…I’m worried about your mental health.”

July 11, 1995. Tuesday

Los Gaviotas  Restaurant in Patterson threw a big 5 year anniversary party tonight. There I sat, writing my notes and enjoying the spray of events! Then on to Donald, and then to his Mom’s, and then back to Donald.

Donald sees men in his room One man is in a tank top. One looks like his boy friend. They are men who are not there, at least our eyes. They at times speak to Donald.

I’m so glad that Donald is in the hospital. He needs that close care. But, how much longer must he endure this?

July 14, 1995

Sweet time with Donald. Such an alone experience. Two men with no choice but to be there (Donald and I)…one giving a back rub, one receiving it. I asked him “When all is gone, what’s left? What’s the meaning? He said He’d go to a gay bar in Stockton. (after death) I said “Where is the meaning there? He said “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” I said “ You have handled this so graciously. You are so kind (Donald now being nearly blind due to complications caused bt Aids),  He said “Oh great, I get the posthumous award?” I said “ Yea, a great thing!” A nurse wanted to show him pictures of her grand kids. He tried , but he could not see them. She, wearing her badge complete with Aids red ribbon, then proceeded to tell him what they looked like, what they wore.. Fuck the eyes! He’s got ears. As one nurse walked by laughing, he yelled out, catting around with her.

I massage him, especially his back. He loves that.

 Around 5pm, he started yelling for home. His Mom was there.The nurses and I tried to console him. This is home, as horrifying as it is.

July 16, 1995

I again didn’t visit Donald. 2 days away now. Poor dear thing. My whole soul and being however are with him. I just needed breathing space.

July 17, 1995

Sweet time with Donald tonight. He wants to die happy, meaning, with the knowledge that he will be remembered.

He feels abandoned now by friends and family and by and large , he has been abandoned. Yet, his Mom is very devoted. Pat was there tonight and Donald’s friend Bob showed up. Even in this advanced stage  of Aids, Donald wants to score!

July 18, 1995

A visit again with sweet Donald. He floats in and out of full and of partial hallucinations. He goes hot, then cold, in a minute.

July 28, 1995

Rodney died yesterday at 11am. Lots of gasping, per the nurse. Rodney’s Mom had just stepped out. The nurse ran to get her. His sister was not there. Donald and his Mom set feet away, in their space. Grueling beauty. Unspeakable. (Rodney was Donald’s Aids patient room mate. They were patients in the  Patterson hospital , where the last stage Aids patients in Stanislaus county were sent Note. 2/12/2024)

July 29, 1995

Donald said as I left today “You made me happy.” He made me happy, too. I had purchased a card for Rodney , his roomy who died. Donald’s Mom, his friend Randy and I signed it. So will the hospital staff. That meant a lot to Donald. And, I brought him flowers which he can’t see, but that he appreciates. His Mom can see them however.

White flowers for brevity of life and for peace.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Making It Work (Chapter Eight)

The next morning when Harry woke up, he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as disgusting as he did in this moment. He stumbled to the bathroom and relieved himself before making his way out to the kitchen and pouring a large glass of water.

The door onto the porch opened and Harry glanced over at Malfoy who was wearing his tight teal yoga pants and a loose fitting tank top, his hair in a top knot again. “Potter, you smell like a distillery. Have you never heard of a hangover potion? Or a shower?”

Harry groaned irritably. “Get off my back, Malfoy.”

“Here,” he said, handing him a vial with a potion in it.

And it probably spoke to how awful Harry was feeling that he simply took the potion and drank it down. He shuddered as the sledge drained down his throat and for a horrifying moment, he was quite sure he was going to be sick all over the kitchen counter. After a moment it passed and he suddenly felt much better. “Thanks,” he said, not feeling outstanding, but not feeling like he’d been hit by the night bus, either.

“Go have a shower, you’ll feel better,” Malfoy said. “And I’ll feel better because I won’t be able to smell you.”

“You’re such a wanker.”

“Yes, well, honesty does seem to be the best policy with Auror partners,” he said with a shrug. “Now, off you pop; to the shower with you. I’ll make breakfast.”

Harry was loathe to admit it, but a shower went a long way to making him feel a little more human. The house smelled divine as he came out into the living room and made his way to the kitchen.

“Ah, just in time,” Malfoy said and a cup of coffee floated over to him followed by a waffle and a plate of bacon.

“You made waffles?” Harry asked, oddly touched.

Malfoy shrugged, not looking at Harry, “They’re good for absorbing alcohol in your stomach. You’ll function better.”

“You’re-” Harry started before cutting himself off.

“What?” Malfoy asked, glaring suspiciously at him.

“You’ll murder me, but I was going to say sweet.”

Malfoy blinked, mouth opening indignantly for a moment then snapping shut before he groused, “I am not sweet, Potter! I am a Malfoy.”

Harry laughed at that, he couldn’t help himself, “I know, you’ve kept it under wraps very well. I never would have suspected it.”

“Potter, I will curse you into next week.”

“Will you make me waffles when I arrive in next week, too?” Harry asked with a huge grin as he stuffed a bite of waffle into his mouth. He groaned at the fluffy, sweet confection in his mouth, “They’re very good.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath.

“This is the nicest start to a Thursday I’ve ever had.”

“Thursdays are particularly heinous, aren’t they?” Malfoy agreed trying, Harry suspected, to steer them away from the topic of his kindness.

“They’re the worst. Second only to Tuesday,” Harry replied easily.

“You’re right about that, Potter.”

He hummed and took a sip of the coffee that Malfoy had managed to make perfectly for him. “I always spend Thursday mornings daydreaming about flooing in sick to work,” Harry said before taking another large bite of waffle.

“What would you do with a sick day when you’re not sick?” Malfoy asked before taking cutting a small piece of waffle with his knife and delivering it to his mouth. How was he so bloody graceful in everything he did?

“Well, I’d go back to bed for starters,” Harry told him. “Then I’d get up again around 10:00 and I’d make myself a big breakfast, maybe waffles or something,” he said with a grin that Malfoy rolled his eyes at. “I’d pull out one of the two dozen books I have on my to-read book pile and I’d curl up in my favorite armchair and read for a few hours and drink tea. Then in the afternoon, I’d put on a glamour to disguise who I am so I don’t get caught out and I’d go find a farmers market. I’d find the local honey booth and I’d probably fall in love with the bloke who ran it,” he paused then added, “or the girl who ran it. That part changes depending on my mood. I’d stay the rest of the afternoon at his stall just talking and laughing, we’d go to dinner together, and that would be it. The beginning of the perfect life.”

“That’s a very detailed daydream, Potter.”

Harry shrugged, “It changes a bit depending on the season, too. Can’t be daydreaming about farmers markets in the winter.”

“Indeed.”

“Alright, what do you daydream about when you want to play hooky?”

Humming thoughtfully, Malfoy said, “I don’t generally. I like going to work most days, I liked working with my partner. He was kind and he taught me a lot, we worked hard and I always felt good about what we were doing. I didn’t really feel that way about my life until I became an Auror.”

Harry listened attentively, there was something about the little glimpses Malfoy gave him of his interior life that always left him wanting to hear more, his waffle and coffee forgotten for the moment.

Draco cleared his throat, “I’m more likely to daydream about what my evenings after work could be like someday. I imagine having breakfast with my husband or boyfriend or whatever, then going off to work and tracking down criminals. Then I imagine coming home to a warm house with all of the lights on and a fire already lit in the hearth. I imagine making dinner together or curling up on the sofa to read or just talk.” He shrugged, his cheeks faintly flushed. “It’s stupid really.”

“It’s not,” Harry said softly, and he wanted to reach out and cover Malfoy’s hand with his own, but he didn’t. “It’s not,” he said again, more softly.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that was happening, what had shifted over the past 12 hours between them. He opened his mouth to say something when Malfoy’s tempus charm went off, startling them both.

“Circe,” Malfoy cursed, waving a hand to stop the alarm. “I have to get ready, enough daydreaming for me.”

And if Harry fancied he heard a bit of wistfulness in Malfoy’s voice, well, he kept his thoughts to himself.

———

Harry was no stranger to the desire to watch Malfoy. He’d spent a fairly large amount of time watching the other man when they were just boys and he could admit, if only to himself, that whenever the two of them had ended up at the same events his eyes stayed glued to the other man, watching him suspiciously.

What was more unfamiliar were the feelings behind his desire to watch him now. Throughout the course of the morning, Harry couldn’t fight the impulse to look up at the other man while they filled in paperwork.

And he’d stare at him, trying to reconcile the pretentious, rude, bigoted boy he’d known in school with this graceful, elegant, hard-working man who daydreamed about coming home to someone at night and who wanted a tiny cozy house. He was nothing like what Harry had imagined.

“What, Potter?” Malfoy finally asked, after looking up for the sixteenth time to find Harry watching him. Harry always tried to avert his eyes, but didn’t manage it well.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

“You have your sixth-year-stalker face on,” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

He rolled his eyes, “Every time I look up I see you staring at me and even when I’m not looking at you, I can feel your eyes boring a hole into my skull. It’s like 6th year all over again.”

“This is nothing like that,” Harry replied, his neck growing warm.

Malfoy merely raised one infuriatingly elegant eyebrow at him.

“It’s not!” Harry protested. “Then I was just trying to figure out what you were up to and now,” Harry trailed off, not really sure what to say.

“And now…” Malfoy prompted.

“Now I’m just trying to figure you out,” Harry finished lamely with a shrug.

His brow furrowed, “What about me are you trying to figure out? I’ve been very upfront with you, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry said, “I just sort of like getting to know this you.”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, then narrowed his eyes, “Are you still drunk, Potter?”

“You’re a prat,” Harry said with a laugh.

“I might have always been amazing to know at Hogwarts,” Malfoy said haughtily. “You don’t know.”

“I don’t,” Harry agreed. “You always seemed to have plenty of friends.”

Malfoy shrugged, “Yes and no.” There was a sadness around Malfoy’s eyes and in the twist of his mouth that made something twist uncomfortably in Harry’s stomach. "I certainly had my faults."

“I was a delight to be around as a teenager, let me tell you,” Harry replied, trying to steer toward something that would make his melancholy disappear.

That startled a laugh out of Malfoy, “Oh, I’ve no doubt. Only you were weirdly moody from like 5th year on.”

“I was not!” Harry said, trying to feel offended but not quite managing it.

“You were,” Malfoy said. “Always glaring into you porridge in the morning and skulking about as though the world was out to get you.”

“It was!” Harry exclaimed. “In fifth year, Voldemorte’s thoughts started leaking into my head and if you think teenage hormones are bad, you’ve got no idea what it’s like to also be sharing thoughts with a mad man when he’s most upset.”

“Sorry,” Malfoy said incredulously, “Did you really just tell me that you were sharing thoughts with Voldemort?”

Harry suddenly wished he hadn’t brought this up. He gave a small nod.

“And no one helped you stop them? No one wanted to, like, protect you?”

“People wanted to protect me,” he said a touch defensively. “Dumbledore made Snape start teaching me occulmency and-”

“Snape?” Malfoy asked incredulously. “He wanted Snape to teach you occulmency.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “He was really good at it.”

“But he was a bloody awful legilimency teacher,” Malfoy replied. “My parents wanted him to teach me, too, but one lesson and they swiftly changed their minds about that. And he liked me.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful. That was a bad year. After Cedric died, everything sort of went downhill, you know? It was like the war became something real, something that could actually hurt people I loved.” He swallowed, “I was just a kid, you know? And it felt like I had all of this pressure on me that no one understood. And I just felt really alone and isolated from everyone else, like sometimes it was like I was watching everything through a window. People would laugh and talk and I just felt angry. All the time. For no reason at all. And some people wanted to treat me like a child, because I was one, but I didn’t feel like I should be treated like one. He was in my head, and I was the one who saw him when he came back, I was the one he was after, and people were dying. For me. And I just hated that. I hated all of it.”

The room was quiet and Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was staring at him calculatingly. “That was sixth year for me,” he said, surprising Harry with his honesty. “Not the bit about Voldemort, although he was living in my house and I, too, had to learn occlumency. But realizing the actuality of the war that was brewing, seeing the effects first hand. My friends didn’t really get it, not even the ones whose parents were supporters of Voldemort, he didn’t live with them, he didn’t torture people in their homes. Their parents were similar to mine, I think, but no one like my Aunt Bellatrix, no one in appearance like Severus, who was my godfather. School seemed so pointless. Everything seemed pointless. I was going to fail and then I’d be killed along with my mother,” he shrugged helplessly. “I was angry and trapped and I felt like there was no way out.”

Harry was quiet for a moment then he asked, “Do you ever think about how crazy our school was?”

Malfoy let out an undignified snort at the question.

“Seriously!” Harry said. “If I were a parent, I’d never send my child to the Hogwarts I went to. I mean, maybe now with Minerva in charge and with people in the Ministry who actually understand the way children learn pushing for solid education reform. But the Hogwarts we went to? No bloody chance. They had us wandering around looking for some dark being who was killing unicorns when we were eleven, Malfoy. Eleven. That was fucking Voldemort that we stumbled across that night, by the way. Two children, wandering around in what is literally called the forbidden forest at night with no adult.”

Malfoy's open laughter made the corners of Harry’s lips tilt up at the sound, so he continued.

“Not to mention our teacher had, you know, Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. Then second year, children are getting petrified left and right, they hired a complete sham of a teacher who set pixies on students and who was completely incapable of teaching anything. I mean, shouldn’t there have been some practical aspect of his interview where he had to demonstrate some skill?”

Malfoy was chortling, his cheeks pink, “You’re right, that is awful.”

“Like they were debating closing Hogwarts, but I would have marched my child straight home the moment someone ended up petrified and not returned them to the school until the damn basilisk was killed. Then third year, parading in a bunch of bloody dementors-” Harry started.

“Well, you were more strangely affected by them than most.”

“I had two souls living inside of me,” Harry replied and Malfoy let out a surprise bark of laughter. “I'm sure they thought I was a complete freak. Regardless, they’re dementors around children and teenagers who are already hormonal,” Malfoy started laughing again at this, “It can’t have made hormones any better.”

“And fourth year with the triwizard tournament,” Harry said. “Are you kidding me? I would never let my child participate in something like that. Who makes children try to steal eggs from a dragon? Or throws them into a lake with mermaids and a giant squid? Who sends children into a maze packed with all sorts of terrifying things all alone?” Malfoy just shook his head at him. “I mean, a child died.” Harry said and at that, Malfoy frowned. “Literally died. And granted they couldn’t have known that the cup could have been switched for a portkey but surely someone should have seen the signs that that man was not Alastor Moody.

“I would have thrown a hissy fit about Umbridge being placed in the school,” Harry continued. “She blatantly abused her power and abused children. Everything was in chaos by the end of the year.” He rubbed his forehead, “I mean, I wasn’t raised in a magical household so maybe wizarding families just always expect this crazy stuff?”

Malfoy shook his head, “No. There were plenty of times in the early years when my parents talked about sending me to a different school. We have family who go to Beauxbaton, so they often talked about sending me there instead.”

“So I’m not crazy.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” Malfoy replied with a smirk. Then he added, “And you got into more trouble than everyone else.”

“But I only mentioned things that affected all of the students! I did plenty of stupid things on my own, admittedly, but there were a vast array of things beyond my control that were not well thought through by adults in power.”

“What can I say, Potter, when you’re right, you’re-”

He was cut off by a knock on the door and Helena coming in.

“You have the worst timing,” Harry teased her with a smile, “He was just about to tell me that I was right.”

“Oh, shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied without any bite in his tone.

“Well, you two seem to be in fine spirits today,” she commented as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Malfoy made waffles for breakfast.”

“I will hex you, Potter.”

“Oooh!” Helena crowed, crowding into the office and sitting on the corner of Harry’s desk, as though readying herself for prime gossip. “Spill! Did you sleep together? Why was he making breakfast?”

Malfoy groaned, “Do you see what you’ve started?” he asked Harry. “No,” he said firmly in response to Helena’s question. “We live together because we are mandated to until we pass our compatibility tests and Potter got stupidly drunk last night and forgot that we are wizards who can take potions to get rid of hangovers before they even happen. Waffles are the best thing to absorb alcohol out of a stomach.”

“You’re sweet, Auror Malfoy,” she said, obviously quite smitten.

“Draco,” Malfoy corrected as Harry said, “That’s what I said.”

Malfoy sent a mild stinging hex at him and Harry laughed.

“He’s a keeper, Harry,” Helena said with a wink at Malfoy. “Don’t mess this one up.”

“Why is it everyone always assumes I’m the screw up?” Harry whinged and Malfoy smirked at him.

“Because, Potter, I am easy to work with.”

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

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only, please. Sexual acts, language, and conversations that make sense, but not really.

More Sebastian here

My Masterlist ❤

His eyes stayed on yours, his nose buried in your pubic hair, tongue flat against you as his fingers curved, presses, strokes, his tongue, a warm firmness. 

You’d forgotten you’d repeated the song on your run, forgot about the slow dragging version of The Hills that made you feel gritty, blissed out of your mind with your head tilted towards the sky and a tightening ache in your thighs. It’d been on your list for years — you needed it when you felt shaky, your skin crawling with need — it’d been playing out loud after you returned; your phone thrown on the bed with your shirt over your head. 

It’d started again when his lips touched the small of your back, startling you, one arm going around your waist to hold you as he kissed up your spine and over your shoulder. 

“Evening.” 

Seb hummed, “Delightful. How are you feeling?”

The ache in your throat persisted, lingering even weeks later, day after day of healing, being careful not to turn the wrong way or fall down anymore stairs. You jerked as a memory of your foot slipping from beneath you flashed through your body.

“How was your run?”

Deflection. 

Sebastian knew you better than anyone should, “Refreshing. I ran past the new juice bar near the bus station, and they had a mango banana blend with pineapple juice.”

The pattern he’d been tracing over your hip widened, his thumb skimming your belly button. “Talk fruity to me, Baby.”

Your body relaxed in his hold. 

“Hey,” a nip to your thigh made you gasp, eyes opening wide, “I can feel you squeezing. How you fuck your hips faster, press closer to my tongue. Distracted even as you’re worked up enough to only need a single finger inside you-” 

Said finger stroked over you, your hips bucking up, Sebastian tongue following the movement and you shouted, back arching, fingers tugging his hair. 

Aftershocks zipped through your body, the motion of the bed moving kept you floating along with the wave. Tiny licks along your clit hit you with electricity. The pleasure caused another snap of your hips and Seb groaned loud, rough, body seizing as he came against the mattress. 

“Bastian.” When Seb looked up at you, mouth slick, his lips swollen with a glazed expression shining in his eyes, you couldn’t help reaching for him, begging him to kiss you, to hold you. 

“You’re un-fucking-real.”

A labored laugh, another heated kiss, and Seb fell onto his back next to you. 

“Last I checked I was here.” Silence, “Oh shit am I?” 

“Could be a glitch.” The sweat on your skin was cooling, and you wanted a shirt or something — looking around proved he’d picked up after you left. The shirt you’d slept in wasn’t on the chair, and the tank top you’d tossed on the dresser was gone as well. 

He sat up when you rolled off the bed, “I heard the top five videos you were watching — uh, Tuesday, I think — the one about the matrix glitches.” 

Seb stood up and moved towards the closet, tossing something your way. The shirt stuck on your forehead for a beat after putting it on, pushing down your nose when you popped free. “I listen to a lot of videos. Have you heard about the multiverse ghost explanation? I listened to the newest Reddit reads, and somebody explained timelines and convergence.” 

Sebastian came back to bed, had tugging the blanket to his chest, head resting on the pillow. “I think — wait — this is about the possibility of entities, being moments from past or present, meeting your timeline?”

You stood up, looking for underwear, spotting Seb's shorts on the dresser. He made grabby hands when you picked up them up. They hit his face, causing him to splutter. 

“Yes, and no. I do like the timeline points, though. It’d make sense if you mapped out energy being left over. This one is that what you are seeing or hearing could be the moment your universe touches another. Explains dimension traveling as well, time traveling too if you piece it together.” 

You put your shoes in the closet, listening to Sebastian, “That is a cool thought. There are ways it’d be impractical, though. 

“Yeah,” He rolled onto his side to face you as you plopped down cross-legged at the end of the bed, “We could point out impracticalities in most things. Coincidences aren’t coincidences, and luck isn’t simple good timing. It’s the concept that makes it appealing. We’ve all had a moment of déjà vu, we’ve all seen something — whether some want to admit it — and we’ve all had our moment in karma’s hot seat. People create superstitions to explain mysterious phenomena.” 

Sebastian nodded, looked off to the side. “I’m getting some water. Want anything?”

“Do we still have granola bars? The sweet almond ones?”

“I think so.” He left the room. 

You grabbed your phone, putting your music app on pause. There were a few messages, nothing important, the same for emails and media notifications. 

There was a snap of your sister’s dog, curled around one of her cats. The animals looked peaceful, happy, well loved, and taken care of in a way that made your heart skip with jealousy. 

Before it could surprise you over the sudden emotional reaction, Seb walked into the room, waving his hand. 

“To say Ghosts are real is objective. We know this. There’s both reasonable doubt and daunting curiosity. This entire world is one large graveyard. People left to rot while nature and people moved on and kept building. Why aren’t we seeing haunting everywhere?”

He’d brought you two bars, one opened with a bite taken out of it, “That’s with your perspective. People who have the innate ability to see what we can’t see are proof that there are ghosts everywhere. It also adds to doubt — how many are fakes? They’re hallucinations because other people don’t see what you see. That brings up arguments of mental illness.” 

A shower should happen. Running later in the day leaves your skin feeling sticky, having sex and building up heat didn’t help. 

“That’s a different conversation. The correlation between the two is real — which brings us back to objective options.” 

Seb moved to the bathroom, and an invisible string pulled you from the bed to follow behind him. The nightly routine proceeded in silence, a few hums coming from both of you. The spearmint mouthwash was out, leaving you to use Seb’s yellow one that tastes like ash on your tongue. It left the frothy feeling tucked into your cheeks. 

“Yes.” Sitting in your original positions, Seb reaches for your foot and massages down the arch.

Seb leaned into the counter after you sat down on the toilet, waiting. “Echoes? We talked about that after the Halloween marathon. Recurrences — moments — trapped where the spirit left a significant amount of energy.”

Both of you made your way back to bed once finished.

“If I kick you it’s your own fault.” He squeezes in response. “Echoes make the most sense, to be honest. When you exert a large amount of energy for something, it sticks with you. Why would that disappear after death? That leads to the complicated question of what happens after death.” 

The conversation continued in a slow, quiet trail of thoughts. His voice rolled over gravel as he spoke, a low mumble of words floating in a whisper. When you realize the afterlife topic became about urban legends and cryptic, did you notice how much time had passed and how tired you were?

You stopped your rotation or sitting patterns when Seb’s eyes closed after a cracking jaw yawn.

You moved around the bed, laying along once another, his head on your lap, yours buried in his chest, Sebastian leaning against the headboard as you curl between his legs coming to rest face to face on your sides, your fingers tangled together between you; your thumb drumming silent beats on the mattress. 

Exhaustion rolled over you, floating you into the gentle moments between sleeping and waking.

The white noise of the overhead fan lolled you closer to unconsciousness until Seb speaks up, voice a curious whisper.

“Would you be angry if I became a ghost that haunted you?”

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Canada will extend a $2.4 billion loan to Ukraine this year to help prop up the embattled country's finances.

The measure is contained in the latest federal budget, tabled in Parliament on Tuesday by Finance Minister Chrystia Freeland. It builds on Canada's previous fiscal supports for Ukraine, intended to offset the economic devastation wrought by Russia's full invasion of the eastern European country last year.

The budget earmarks $200 million for military equipment and donations. Federal officials acknowledge that most of that money has been spent already; the sum includes the recent donation of heavy tanks. The measure is being backdated on the government's books to the current fiscal year, which ends on March 31.

The Liberal government also has set aside $605.8 million over five years to replenish the Canadian military's stocks of ammunition and explosives — stocks that were drawn down heavily to supply Ukraine. The new budget offers the first clear indication of how deeply in dollar terms the federal government has dug into its existing store of shells and munitions to support Ukraine's defence. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Rhys' Floppsy

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

Insider tip... I wasn't nearly as tired last night as I told Rhys I was.

Emmett and I had fun... with a capital F.U.N. after they left.

We're getting really in sync now.

I feel like he knows me and my body really well and knows exactly what buttons to push when.

The fact that we're so in sync outside of the bedroom or by the pool again... is even more special and important but I am loving both right now.

He was rough as hell with me this morning and I loved it.

Unfortunately I have to be Finnegan this morning.

I need to do a bit of work so I'll be free the rest of the day and I'm going to see if I can manage to stay here at the beach a bit longer.

I put on a t-shirt to go with my boxers and start the coffee pot.

I want to work down here but I'll get distracted... best to sit at a desk.

I fill my mug, leave it on warm for Emmett and head back upstairs.

Two hours later I go to the window and open the curtain.

The sun is up and it looks gorgeous out... the sky has those little puffy white clouds that always look fake floating through it.

Good news is... I don't have to be in the office Monday or Tuesday so I head downstairs to tell Emmett.

"Hey, darling."

He's spread out on the couch watching 'Hoarders'.

That show literally makes me itch.

He's doing it with his hair in a bun which has become my favorite thing lately.

He has on a white tank top and shorts so faded that they're almost white and he looks like a complete beach bum and sexy as hell.

I plop down beside him.

"Hey Emmett. So, good news."

He pulls me closer which I never... ever mind.

"Tell me."

"We don't have to leave until Tuesday, at least. Maybe if we get really lucky I can do another day or two at the office next week and we can come back."

He looks happy but not quite as happy as I expect.

"I have to be at the garage on Monday, darling. I thought we were leaving tomorrow morning. You said Saturday to Saturday."

Oh, that.

"Megan rented it for two weeks. I just need to let her know if I need it for longer. Can you call Peter and get a few extra days?"

It's Peter, how can it be a problem?

"I could, Finn but I can't. I have bills to pay and before you..." he holds up his hand.

"Before you offer to pay them, no. I'm not letting you do that. You should stay longer though if you can. We will sort out the car situation, maybe I can go back with Quincy and Rhys."

No. What? Why?

"No, if you leave, I'm leaving Emmett. I don't want to be here without you."

"Then Sunday it is. So, Quincy and Rhys may be here shortly so we have two days left. What would you like to do?"

"More of last night before we leave, please. And uh... I hate to ask this but my parents want to meet you. Do you mind saying 'hello' on video-chat?"

He looks apprehensive.

"The hating to ask makes me nervous but no... I don't mind."

I didn't mean it that way, it just seems like a big deal but I met his dad and step-mom in person so he probably doesn't think so.

I need to be Finnegan when we do it and here, at the beach, that isn't happening much.

"Sunday evening?"

"Sure. As long as I don't have to wear a suit... I'll be there."

He kisses my temple and wraps his arms around me.

"Thank you for not fighting me on leaving."

I kinda pushed it with the appliances, I know that.

Plus he took some rent money and let me pay for the beach house.

Not that I mind, I would gladly pay his weekly salary so I can spend the time with him but I get it, it's a lot.

I crane my neck around to see him.

"Just remember this next time I do something nice. You won this round."

He raises his eyebrows and I turn back around.

I think he considers saying something but changes his mind and it seems we've decided to drop the subject.

"As much as I like you in boxers, you might wanna put shorts on before company arrives."

Shit, he's right.

It's emotionally painful to pull myself out of his arms and off this soft couch.

As I walk upstairs I realize that I can relax and be Finn again.

It took so much work to turn him off this morning that I'm not quite sure I can go back quite yet.

I need to though.

Rhys will want me to be in little head-space and we're leaving in just two days.

It sort of seems like I need to stock-pile all the happy I can because the next two months is going to be rough.

There will be no vacations.

There won't even be weekends.

As much as I'm enjoying all the sex... I'll be lucky to get half this much once I go back.

I walk out onto the balcony to check the temperature and it's hot.

Really hot.

I decide to just put on swim trunks since we'll probably end up in the pool soon.

The doorbell chimes and I have no doubt who it is.

A second later someone is running up the stairs.

He knocks but then barges right in.

"Finn."

"Hey Rhys."

He has on swim trunks and a backpack and dangling from his hand by one poor ear is an adorable bunny.

This must be the infamous Floppsy from last night.

He walks right over to me as Quincy goes down the hallway and into their room with a suitcase.

"Are you okay Finn?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm fine, yeah."

"No, you're not Finn. Why not?"

He plops down on the bed and puts Floppsy in his lap.

"I had to work this morning and I'm just..."

I run my hand through my hair because I don't know.

I mean, if anyone would understand it should be him but I don't want to fuck with his headspace either.

"Oh. You should do something fun then. Do you want to play?"

My heart's not quite in it but...

"Sure. What do you want to do?"

He smiles and pulls his backpack off.

"I brought my coloring books and markers, wanna do a picture?"

That I can probably handle right now.

"Sure."

I'm thinking we should go to the table but he's already jumped down to the floor and is dumping out his backpack.

"Are you a good drawer, Finn? Can you do me some pictures?"

I'm decent, maybe.

Enough for Rhys when he is in his little headspace, anyway.

"Sure, whatever you want."

[blue-opossum]

A Train Trip to Tai Chi Practice

        A Train Trip to Tai Chi Practice

        Tuesday morning, 1 January 1991

        An unfamiliar Hmong girl sits across from me on a train. I am supposed to be her temporary guardian. Looking out the window, I see railroad tracks covered with shallow water. It is a peaceful and satisfying focus. It is a long train ride through an unknown rural area.

         My focus changes to following the girl as she walks over a plank suspended over a river. I watch my feet for a time with a soothing, mesmerizing effect.

        Water lowers over time. A Tai Chi class is near the top of a slope. I only see three silhouettes.

        The slope somehow becomes steeper (a greater angle of inclination) as one of the men grasps my hand to pull me up.

        This dream features:

        Water, partial flooding (non-threatening), and water lowering over time: Water has always occurred every sleep cycle as a natural association with falling asleep and waking up, usually starting with a water-filled pothole. Ultimately, water corresponds with my absence of emotions, cognizance, and physicality while navigating sleep or sleepiness, analogous to a flotation tank (or sensory deprivation tank).

        Riding on a train: Imaginary kinesthesia (the false perception of movement caused by variations in REM atonia while sleeping) often results in associations with riding on a train (though this depends on sleep dynamics, as other modes of transportation occur every sleep cycle).

        Walking across an elevated plank or narrow wooden bridge: This trope is a regularly occurring correlation (and compensation for) imaginary kinesthesia, but not as passive as a train ride. It defines intuitive awareness of managing REM atonia dynamics while sleeping and imagining leg mobility. When sustained, it is more mesmerizing than ascending a slope.

        Ascending a slope: This illusory physicality trope occurs in most sleep cycles and is another factor of imaginary kinesthesia that can occur with or without the sensations of realistic leg motions. For example, it might involve walking up a staircase (while perceiving leg motions) or floating upward in a standing position over a staircase (particularly with missing steps).

        Dancing, martial arts, and exercises: Anticipating physicality - typically in my last stage of dreaming in expectation of inducing real-world physicality that only comes with consciousness - is the primary cause of dream narratives other than synthetic mental modeling of cognizance. Arm and leg mobility is naturally the predominant physiological pattern of dreaming, rendered oppositely as when exiting my sleep cycle (gain of mobility) as when entering it (loss of mobility).

[deathfavor]

@valorheroics​ said: 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . || from Yuzuha for Kazutora

scenery rp meme  044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance

   It’s like drowning, only without the actual drowning part of it. That’s what Kazutora thinks as he stares up at the top of the tunnel when a large tea turtle swims over and casts a long shadow. It’s a random Tuesday so there aren’t many people here - most are at work or school or somewhere. But Kazutora has nowhere specifically to be. He likes it. It’s quiet but there’s enough noise from other people to keep his thoughts from going too loud, and enough visual stimulation that his eyes wander here and there. It grants him an odd sense of weightlessness. As if, through sheer will, he might find himself floating suspended alongside the oceanic creatures. He sits himself on the edge, pressed close to the glass, and watches. ( What does he look like to the fish? Do his eyes look as lost as forgotten treasure? Or do they remind them of creatures hidden in nooks and cranies?  )

   It’s only when he eventually feels a presence linger that Kazutora tears his gaze away from the sharks and fish to look towards her.  “  You and water seem to be paired together.  “  Kazutora remarks. Not the standard greeting but an acknowledgement nonetheless.

   Toman.  His gaze darts to one side of the tunnel and then the other, but there are no ghosts from his past or gods to slay. So he returns his gaze towards her for a long moment. But then like one of the sharks above, he allows it to slowly wander away and turn back towards the tank. For a tiger that seemed to often make himself as big as possible, he hardly gave any presentation when he was tucked up into a small bundle and staring at the tank. He felt small in the tunnel, but not in the way a tall person made you feel small. His eyes close with a small sigh. If only...

   “  Mm. If you’re going to linger, you should say what what you would be in this tank.  “  Kazutora’s voice suddenly chimes into the air again as he tosses his head back to look at her again with his more typical grin that he could often be spotted wearing.  “ Let’s see....What would I be?  “  He ponders it for a moment before unfolding himself with sudden vigor.

   “  Look!  “  He spins to tap her shoulder before pointing towards the rocks where a large eel had finally revealed itself from one of the burrows.  “  I’d be that. A moray eel.  “  Kazutora decides, watching at the eel. Maybe it’s a surprising answer when the sharks are right there. But he seems confident, if a bit more serious, though he offers no explaination to his unusual choice. He turns back to look at Yuzuha expectantly.  “  So?  What’d you be?  “ 

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, June 6, 2023

In a Contentious Lawmaking Season, Red States Got Redder and Blue Ones Bluer (NYT) America’s state capitals are as polarized as they have been in decades, with lawmakers imposing unflinchingly conservative or liberal agendas this year, even in politically diverse places. The 2022 election brought single-party control of the governor’s office and legislature to 39 states, the most in at least three decades. Many of the 22 Republican-led states pushed new curbs on abortion, sweeping restrictions on gender transitions for youths and laws limiting discussion about sexuality in school classrooms. Democrats, who have full control in 17 states, passed new gun control measures, set limits on carbon emissions, and created safe havens for abortion and medical care for transgender people. The result was that the legislative season, which has ended in much of the country, left an even wider divide between Republican and Democratic states on the country’s thorniest social issues. “We’ve always known that California was progressive, Texas was conservative, but it now feels like almost every state is kind of falling into one of those categories,” said Tim Storey, the chief executive of the National Conference of State Legislatures, a nonpartisan group.

Violence Against Teachers Is on the Rise (WSJ) When English teacher Lauren Forbus saw three students at her middle school sneak in through an exit-only door, she stood in the hall with outstretched arms and told them to turn around. Instead, she said, they cursed at her and told her to move. Then came a push that spun her around, she later told school police. Her face smacked into a set of blue lockers. Dazed, she found herself lying on the carpeted floor, tasting blood, as her colleagues called for help and Dilworth Middle School went into lockdown. Her right eye later turned black and blue. The incident added to concerns about student violence. “Most minutes of the school day everything is fine, but then there are these flashpoints of violence,” Washoe County school board president Beth Smith said. Across the U.S., violence against teachers has ratcheted up since the widespread return to in-person learning in 2021, and in some areas the problem is worse than it was prepandemic. From September through May of the current school year, the number of assault-related workers’ compensation claims filed at some 2,000 schools in different regions of the U.S. topped 1,350, a five-year high, according to claims and risk-management services firm Gallagher Bassett.

U.S. and China at Asia’s top security forum (Washington Post) At a major conference billed as a “dialogue,” the top defense officials of the United States and China found themselves locked in a standoff. The two were the star guests among the hundreds of dignitaries from 54 countries gathered at the Shangri-La Dialogue, an annual summit organized for the past two decades by the International Institute of Strategic Studies, a British think tank. The tension between the two powers shadowed all discussions. In the keynote address Friday evening, Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese said he feared that a “breakdown” in U.S.-China dialogue could trigger a chain of escalation that “would be devastating for the world.” Gen. Yoshihide Yoshida, chief of staff of Japan’s Self-Defense Forces, said the international community was at a “watershed” moment, with the specter of war looming over Asia. The next day, Indonesia’s defense minister, Prabowo Subianto, warned that “the danger of catastrophe is near.” President Biden recently floated the idea of a “thaw” between the two countries. But such rapprochement is “unlikely in the near term,” Ivy Kwek, a China fellow at the International Crisis Group, said, since China sees the very “terms of dialogue with the U.S. as being unfavorable to them.” That’s a source of growing worry in the region, she added, as the vast majority of Asian countries view strategic rivalry between the United States and China as a destabilizing risk.

Mexico president’s ruling party rolls to win in country’s most populous state (AP) Mexico’s most populous state turned its back on decades of single-party rule, deciding to move forward with President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s ruling Morena party over the long-dominant Institutional Revolutionary Party. The preliminary forecast from electoral authorities Sunday night indicated a victory for Delfina Gómez in the State of Mexico that was confirmed a short time later by Alejandra del Moral’s concession speech. Official ballot counting continued through the night. The result was a new low for the PRI, which governed Mexico uninterrupted for 71 years until losing power in 2000 and had ruled the State of Mexico for even longer until its loss Sunday.

Growing protests in Serbia over mass shootings (NYT) Protests in Serbia over back-to-back mass shootings last month ballooned on Saturday into the biggest street demonstrations in the capital, Belgrade, since demonstrators toppled Slobodan Milosevic as Serbia’s president in 2000. Weekly “Serbia Against Violence” protests have been gathering momentum since early May when two massacres—one at a school in Belgrade, the second in nearby villages—killed 18 people and set off a wave of public revulsion at what critics of the country’s strongman leader, Aleksandar Vucic, denounce as a “culture of violence” promoted by the government and loyal media outlets. Saturday’s protest, the fifth and biggest by far, increased pressure on Mr. Vucic to meet at least some of the protesters’ demands. Those demands include the dismissal of senior law enforcement officials and the withdrawal of broadcasting licenses from pro-government television stations notorious for airing violent reality shows and ignoring opposition politicians.

In Russian Schools, It’s Recite Your ABC’s and ‘Love Your Army’ (NYT) A new version of the ABC’s in Russia’s Far East starts with “A is for Army, B is for Brotherhood”—and injects a snappy phrase with every letter, like, “Love your Army.” A swim meet in the southern city of Magnitogorsk featured adolescents diving into the pool wearing camouflage uniforms, while other competitors slung model Kalashnikov rifles across their backs. “Snipers” was the theme adopted for math classes at an elementary school in central Russia, with paper stars enumerating would-be bullet holes on a target drawn on the chalkboard. As the war in Ukraine rolls into its 16th month, educational programs across Russia are awash in lessons and extracurricular activities built around military themes and patriotism. These efforts are part of an expansive Kremlin campaign to militarize Russian society, to train future generations to revere the army and to further entrench President Vladimir V. Putin’s narrative that “a real war has once again been unleashed on our motherland,” as he declared in a sober address at a ceremony last month.

At least 80 Afghan students—mostly girls—poisoned in school, all alive (Washington Post) More than 80 Afghan students and teachers—most of them girls—were apparently poisoned over the past two days, local officials said Monday, in incidents that, while causing no critical injuries, mirrored recent attacks on schoolgirls in neighboring Iran. According to witness accounts, students and teachers immediately fell unconscious after entering their classrooms, suggesting that a gas may have been used, said a village elder who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the subject. Shafiullah Rahimi, a spokesman for the Ministry of Disaster Management, said that “in one school, three teachers and 60 students were affected. In the second school, four teachers and 22 students were affected.” In neighboring Iran, human rights watchdog Amnesty International had counted 300 suspected gas attacks in more than 100 girls schools by late April, prompting anxiety and frustration among students and parents, some of whom said they may stop sending their children to school. In Afghanistan, girls’ education has become one of the most divisive issues over the past 20 months since the Taliban took over.

Rescuers in Japan search for 3 missing in or near rivers swollen by heavy rains last week (AP) Rescue workers in Japan searched Monday for three people who went missing in or near rivers swollen by heavy rains last week that left one person dead and dozens injured. A man in his 60s who was pulled from a flooded car Friday in the central city of Toyohashi was pronounced dead over the weekend. In Wakayama prefecture, a woman was seen being swept into a swollen river while driving and an older man who went to check on a friend in a riverside neighborhood is also believed to have been swept away. On Monday, residents were cleaning up in flood-hit parts of Iwata city in Shizuoka, where a river bank was breached and dozens of homes were flooded. The residents, helped by volunteers, shoveled out mud that gushed into their houses, washed the floors and brought out mud-smeared furniture.

More than 2 million people displaced, Burkina Faso’s government says, as aid falls short (AP) Violence linked to al-Qaida and the Islamic State group has made Burkina Faso a country with one of the world’s fastest-growing populations of internally displaced people, with the number mushrooming by more than 2,000% since 2019, according to government data. Figures released last month showed more than 2 million people are internally displaced in the West African nation, the majority of them women and children, fueling a dire humanitarian crisis as the conflict pushed people from their homes, off their farms and into congested urban areas or makeshift camps. Aid groups and the government are scrambling to respond amid a lack of funds and growing needs. One in four people requires aid, and tens of thousands are facing catastrophic levels of hunger. Yet not even half of the $800 million humanitarian response budget requested last year by aid groups was funded, according to the United Nations.

ChatGPT took their jobs (Washington Post) When ChatGPT came out last November, Olivia Lipkin, a 25-year-old copywriter in San Francisco, didn’t think too much about it. Then, articles about how to use the chatbot on the job began appearing on internal Slack groups at the tech start-up where she worked as the company’s only writer. Over the next few months, Lipkin’s assignments dwindled. Managers began referring to her as “Olivia/ChatGPT” on Slack. In April, she was let go without explanation, but when she found managers writing about how using ChatGPT was cheaper than paying a writer, the reason for her layoff seemed clear. “Whenever people brought up ChatGPT, I felt insecure and anxious that it would replace me,” she said. “Now I actually had proof that it was true, that those anxieties were warranted and now I was actually out of a job because of AI.” Experts say that even advanced AI doesn’t match the writing skills of a human: It lacks personal voice and style, and it often churns out wrong, nonsensical or biased answers. But for many companies, the cost-cutting is worth a drop in quality. “We’re really in a crisis point,” said Sarah T. Roberts, an associate professor at University of California in Los Angeles specializing in digital labor. “[AI] is coming for the jobs that were supposed to be automation-proof.”

[myflighttrip]

Explore The Best Romantic Places of Bangalore - My Flight Trip

Couples nowadays prefer spending time at iconic and trendy locations, romantic cafes with chic interiors, and rooftop bars, as opposed to secluded areas. Bangalore, being an iconic destination, offers several romantic places for couples to explore and spend time together. There are many locations in Bangalore that provide a beautiful ambiance for couples to enjoy each other's company. Whether you're looking for a heart-melting, fun-loving, mushy, or adventurous date, Bangalore has an array of venues and attractions to suit every taste and keep the romance alive. Keep reading to know more about some of the best romantic places to explore in Bangalore and make sure to explore these places with your partner.

Cubbon Park:

Cubbon Park is a mesmerizing location where couples can take a stroll and relish the enchanting ambiance. With its lush greenery and serene atmosphere, Cubbon Park undoubtedly secures a top spot on the list of romantic places for couples in Bangalore. This alluring destination is great for couples to spend some quality time together. Whether you want to engage in a heart-to-heart conversation with your partner or simply enjoy each other's company under the stars, Cubbon Park is a must-visit place in Bangalore. If you reside in Mumbai and want to visit your partner in Bangalore, book flights from Mumbai to Bangalore at affordable rates and fly to your partner soon.

Note- It is closed on Mondays and second Tuesdays.

Nandi Hills:

Nandi Hills, located in Bangalore, is a stunning and incredibly romantic destination. Couples can immerse themselves in the captivating atmosphere of the hills, serene lakes, and remarkable forts. The ancient hill fortress provides an exceptional experience of witnessing the sunrise and sunset from an unparalleled vantage point. Ascending to the hilltop gives one a feeling of floating amidst the clouds. It's no surprise that Nandi Hills is regarded as among the most romantic spots in and around Bangalore and is also the most visited place. It's highly recommended to visit this place during the early hours of the day when the weather is refreshing, and the surroundings are breathtaking with the warm, golden sunbeams.

Ulsoor Lake:

Ulsoor Lake, located in Bangalore, is a popular tourist destination, especially among couples for its breathtaking scenery and romantic atmosphere. The stunning views offered by the lake make it an ideal spot for a romantic escape in Bangalore. A boat ride on the calm waters of Ulsoor Lake is a wonderful way to spend a peaceful evening with your significant other. Make sure to visit during sunset to witness the stunning beauty. The delightful ambiance, lush green surroundings, and tranquil waters are what make this lake a must visit.

Note- It is closed on Wednesdays.

Sankey Tank:

Sankey Tank, located in the suburbs of Malleshwaram, is a beautiful artificial lake that has become a romantic place to visit in Bangalore for couples. The serene surroundings offer a picturesque walking trail, boating options, and a lush green canopy of trees, making it a perfect destination for couples to enjoy their quality time. As migratory birds soar overhead and the sun sets, the romantic aura of the Sankey Tank grows, fanning the flames of love between two individuals.

Note- It is closed on Fridays.

Thottikallu Falls:

Thottikallu Falls, located in Bangalore, is a scenic spot that serves as an idyllic setting for a romantic date and is among the most visited places in Bangalore. This tourist destination is situated far from the hustle and bustle of the city, offering a serene atmosphere to spend quality time with your partner. Adventure enthusiasts can engage in activities like mountain hiking and trekking, making for an exciting and memorable experience. In case you are looking to travel from Hyderabad, book Hyderabad to Bangalore flights and travel to meet your significant other and surprise them with your presence.

Above mentioned are some of the romantic places in Bangalore that are great for couples. Moreover, we are aware of how much long distances can become a barrier and create a communication gap between a couple, henceforth via My Flight Trip you can get exclusive discounts on your flights from Delhi to Bangalore, book your flights now and don’t let long distance be the barrier in between.

[dailydevotion-ltckyrke]

32 years ago, on 24 February, the ground war began...the day before was filled with last minute preparations and internal reflection...the largest assemblage of armor and ground forces since WWII OPERATION DESERT STORM At 0330, on G+2 (Tuesday 26 February) the Regiment received new orders from VII Corps: To find and fix the Iraqi Republican Guards “Elite” Tawakalna Division. The Dragoon Battle Group was to “Hold the Nose” while the corps’ heavier divisions came around “To kick them in the rear”, to steal a phrase from another of the Regiments Corps Commanders of the past. All three squadrons soon became involved in the heaviest fighting the Regiment would be involved in during the 100-Hour War, 1st (WAR EAGLE) Squadron tasked with the “mopping up” the remnants of the 12th Division, while 2nd (COUGER) and 3rd (WOLFPACK) Squadrons fought two brigades of the Tawakalna. The weather dried out from the previous evening’s storms, but a heavy sandstorm came up about mid-morning, grounding most of the regiment’s aviation assets. The winds also hid the battlefield from the enemy, giving the Dragoon’s a distinct advantage with its thermal sights and laser rangefinders. This fight would later be known as “THE BATTLE OF 73 EASTING”, which would turn out to be the “Last great Tank Battle of the 20th Century”. The Regiment’s M1A1 Tanks, and M2/M3 Bradley Fighting Vehicles (BFV) proved to be far superior to the Iraqi BMP-1’s and T-72’s, and the Regiment’s troopers outperformed the Iraqi “elite” forces. Some tank gunners reported firing at ranges of 3,800 meters. Iraqi POW’s later told interrogators that could hear the U.S. tanks, but couldn’t see them, and didn’t realize they were under fire until the turret from the T-72 next to them blew off. The Regimental Support Squadron (RSS), who were affectionately known as the “Buffalo Herd”, also received its own “Baptism of Fire” when it was attacked by ten Iraqi MTLB’s (Armored Personnel Carriers). The Operational Readiness Float (ORF) Platoon, led by LT Kirkland, assigned as a security element for the squadron along with 4th (RED CATCHERS) squadron’s Cobra helicopter’s quickly destroyed this threat. https://www.instagram.com/p/CpAY2WCg6Ih/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gscheelsushi]

Journal 2

University Sustainability & Campus Trails Field Trip

This past Tuesday, September 13th, We went on our very first field trip for my Colloquium class! It was so much fun. We explored all around campus... Our first stop was at the Veterans Pavilion. We talked about what happens here- important speeches are given, emotions are shared, art is displayed, and ceremonies and cultural events are held here. Veterans Pavilion is at the heart of campus and is our university's sense of place.

The second stop was inside Seidler Hall. This building has been appointed as being LEED platinum. This high status of energy efficiency is achieved through methods such as motion-triggered lighting, solar-powered electricity, and accessible showers for public use to encourage physical means of transportation. Some benefits of being LEED accredited include boosting public image, tax benefits, improved employment, better employee performance, and an overall healthier environment.

Our next third stop was just outside the neighboring building, Whitaker Hall. Our campus naturalist guide, Paige, pointed out a few sustainable components that we use each day... the solar-powered self-compacting trash cans and recycling containers, as well as the type of walkways that were chosen. The sidewalks are made of pavers that function with the rainfall as they absorb the water, filter it and release it to the drainage ponds, helping to passively maintain healthy water on campus.

Our fourth and final stop on the main campus was at the AC cooling plant. This is a very important component of campus sustainability. These tanks function to push cool air throughout the academic buildings throughout the day on a time system in sync with the day's time and the temperature outside to maximize efficiency. The tanks are full of frozen blocks of water, and the ice is melted and turned into vapor to supply the fresh cool air in our classrooms.

Moving onto the campus trails portion of the field trip...

We walked the trail that lies between the arts and music portion of campus and the SOVI student living facilities.

When we first entered, we were amongst what is known as the pine flatlands. This area, and others with a similar ecosystem will be managed with prescribed fires to help build fire retardant abilities. As you approach an area as such, you will notice various plant life that is blackened and charred, creating a metaphorical callous of resilience.

The second area that we entered was the Oak Hammock. You could notice the transition from the pine flatland to here by the lowered temperature. The canopy coverage of the broader branched trees cooled the climate in this environment nicely.

Within the Oak Hammock, I found some very cool air plants living on the trees.

I also came across some lovely Beauty Berries, and a pretty little pink flower and tucked it in my braid!

Once we started to get wet, we knew that we had entered the Freshwater Marsh portion of the trail. This water reached up to be about mid-shin deep.

A unique form of plant life found here is known as the Alligator Flag. It lines the waterways in marshes, where alligators will live. People named this plant because it would wiggle and move when an alligator approached through the plants.

I captured this perfect flower floating in the marshy water- looking so delicate and peaceful.

Our final destination was the Cypress Dome. This was waist-deep water. Considering how hot it is outside, I was pleasantly surprised by how cool the water was. It was very refreshing.

We were asked to pick a tree and be still with it. Observe our surroundings and just be here. This was a magical experience, to say the least. To be standing amongst super tall trees in water covering half my body! I think some classmates found this to be bizarre, but everyone in the end found appreciation for the moment.

I felt grateful.

Grateful for the opportunity, for the weather, for my teacher, for the naturalist guide, and for none of my classmates screaming at the bugs and having to get wet.

Most importantly, I felt grateful for nature allowing such a perfect moment to exist.

We are blessed.

Grace