#hand wash isn’t the same as a washing machine round but just manually

[yugiohz]

I just put hand wash things on the gentle cycle???

🥴

[ilguna]

Berceuse - Chapter One

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

warnings; swearing.

wc; 11.5k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

This year, Alyssum is the first to wake in the house. 

Typically, she’s one of the last to rise in the house, but as of recently, Alyssum’s been waking up in the middle of the night with sweat soaked sheets and a hollow feeling in her chest.

It’s always the same nightmare that does it to her, and without fail so far, she hasn’t been able to recall what it’s about. All she knows is that it’s nearly impossible for her to fall asleep after she wakes up. Today is no exception. 

She can’t blame it all on the nightmare, though. There’s another reason why she’s up so early, and it’s because this is the first year where she’s officially an eligible candidate for the Hunger Games.

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down her spine.

She had a hard enough time trying to fall asleep last night, she swears it took her an hour of tossing and turning before she finally wore herself out. The nightmare really cut her a few hours shorter than she wishes. 

Still, when she catches a glance of herself in front of the mirror, she’s not able to detect a trace of sleep deprivation in her face and movements. It seems as if her body is thinking this is just a regular school day, forgetting that she hasn’t been in school for the past three days in preparation for today.

She’s not the only one, everyone who goes to the boarding school that you run was required to take the three days off for mandatory testing and evaluation. It’s only been recently instilled as of last year. It’s because of an incident regarding volunteer ages and the practicality of the boarding-school-trained tributes making it out of the arena alive.

And no, as far as Alyssum knows, it doesn’t have anything to do with Annie and her tribute counterpart. They were perfect candidates for the games and you had done the right thing by making the 70th games available to the seventeen and eighteen year-olds.

The problem started when the age was lowered to fifteen, it opened a discussion on whether or not it was appropriate because they’re still too young. Personally, Alyssum thinks that the age restrictions don’t have as much authority as they’re giving it.

Sure, it’s a rule that the boarding school has, but what’s really stopping the younger kids from volunteering if they feel like it? You and Finnick are still going to do your jobs, you have to mentor them anyway.

Of course, you’d already thought of it, and it’s one of the reasons why the mandatory evaluations were set up. It’s to test the capabilities of every student inside of the boarding school. The parents can get a proper assessment of their child’s improvements, and it also benefits the boarding school’s records.

Anyway, the three days off are the three days leading up to the reaping. It mostly focuses on physical and mental skills, like fighting and memorizing. It’s a thorough process, all of it being hands-on. The other victors, Annie, Luther and Scotch, come around to help speed up the process.

To keep it as accurate as possible, it was decided that students should be scored like how the gamemakers would if they were put in front of them. And since the gamemakers only score one skill, the victors do the same for each individual skill. At the very end of the third day, students are given their individual scores, and on top of that, an overall score.

Currently, Alyssum is sitting at an eight overall, which is better than the other twelve year-olds inside of the boarding school. If she hadn’t been enrolled in the boarding school since she was seven, she’s sure that it would be a different story. 

And it’s not like she started with the other children, either. She’s not the first kid that’s been allowed to train alongside the teenagers, but she was the first child to train in the older kids’ classes.

After only five years, she’s in the fifteen year-old class. Which is the first year that really introduces the weapon specialties. If she spends two years in this class—following the pattern of two years in each class, with the exception of the twelve year-old one—she’ll have mastered the weapons by the time she’s thirteen. 

That’s under the assumption that Alyssum survives this reaping.

As she begins to gather her outfit for today, she realizes what a stupid thought that is. Why wouldn’t she survive the reaping? Her name is only going to be in the bowl once. She might be in the fifteen class but her name isn’t in there four times.

Besides, with how the boarding school has been going these past few years, someone would volunteer over her. She doesn’t even doubt it.

Alyssum stands in front of her wardrobe, a dress in each hand. The first one is baby pink with white accents. There’s a ribbon that runs along the middle, and in the back it’s loose so that she can tie it in a bow. The dress is long-sleeved, soft to the touch with a white trim at the bottom. 

If she wears this one, she’ll have to be careful with where she walks and what touches it. It looks like it can be easily damaged, then again it can keep her warm, and it leaves an open possibility for any accessories.

In the other hand is a shimmery gold-colored dress. This fabric is stiffer, not easily malleable, and the accents are black instead of white. It’s not long sleeved, though, it’s got the arms of a regular t-shirt. Not to mention, it also has pockets.

As much as she likes the pink dress when she holds it up to her body, she thinks she remembers you warning her about what the weather is going to be like today. Hot, especially as time goes on.

She gives the pink dress a soft smile, putting it back on the rod inside her wardrobe. She’ll save it for later, a colder time when she needs to look formal but cute. Maybe during the winter Victory Tour, sometimes the mayor allows your family to join you at the dinner.

She pulls out her black Mary Jane’s, placing them outside of the closet. After shutting the doors, she takes her time moving around the room. A white pair of socks that will show her ankles, a black ribbon to tie into her hair if she wants to, a bracelet you gave her for her twelfth birthday.

She lays the accessories out on her desk in a line so that she doesn’t forget anything when it’s time to put on the finishing touches. Then, she gets to work with the little things.

Alyssum gathers her underwear and dress into one hand, moving to open her door to use the bathroom across the hall. The master bedroom, the one that you and Finnick use, is the only room that has a bathroom attached. However, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t bathrooms littered across the house.

She’s lucky that you had placed her across the bathroom when she was just a toddler. It makes for a short and easy trip when she doesn’t feel like getting dressed in the bathroom. Alyssum can’t count on her hand how many times she’s thanked you for it.

All you said is that you understood way before the boys did.

After shutting the bathroom door behind her, she quickly gets the shower started. It’s become a routine with her, something that you had started when she was old enough to get a schedule down. It makes for quick and easy mornings, especially when everyone wants to shower before the reaping to look nice.

Even with the victor houses, though, it takes a while for the water to heat up. She brushes her hair, and her teeth, in the meantime. A small yawn escapes her mouth just as she goes to test the water again.

Finally warm, she hops in. She washes her hair with the strawberry scented shampoo, working the conditioner in afterward. The body wash that you had picked out for her the other day isn’t fruity, it’s floral. Needless to say, Alyssum is going to smell nice.

When she gets out of the shower, she carefully dries her hair, and then her body. She’s heard the stories about the machines in the Capitol that automatically do this for their citizens. You keep swearing that the house will get it one day, but you haven’t found out a way to get it here just yet.

For now, Alyssum has to manually dry herself off. 

When she’s half-dressed, she works more water out of her hair, afraid that it’ll end up ruining the dress. It’s impossible to get all of it out, so she just hopes that it won’t ruin the fabric too much, besides making it darker.

She leaves the attached ribbon untied, but zips up the back to the top, being sure to fasten the button too. When she looks at herself, half-put together like this, her first thoughts are of how pretty she looks. And then she turns on the vent, allowing the steam to leave the bathroom.

The moment she opens the door again, she can tell she isn’t the only one awake anymore. There’s the faint sounds of coffee brewing in the maker, and sizzling of food. It could be either you, or Reed. The two of you always go back and forth between waking up first. 

Before she goes to investigate, she drops her dirty clothes in the hamper just inside her door. She’s quiet down the steps, because a few of them have a history of squeaking if they’re stepped on a certain way. Everyone in the house has memorized where at this point. It’s always left up to guests to step in the wrong place.

“Hello?” Alyssum calls out quietly, rounding the corner to see into the kitchen.

It looks like you’re the early bird this year.

Your head raises, body twisting to see who’s spoken. You relax considerably when you see that it’s Alyssum. A natural smile covers your face.

Alyssum can see that you’re making pancakes when you move out of the way. The ingredients sit along the counter, a blue mug of coffee sits within arms reach. She thinks that it’s the mug with Finnick’s face on it, a souvenir because you thought it was funny.

“Good morning, honey, you’re up early. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Alyssum says, moving into the kitchen, “It’s because I went to bed early last night.”

Alyssum’s made sure that none of you know about her nightmares. The moment any of you find out, she’ll be taken out of the boarding school. It was a rule that was made for her when she was little, along with a lot of others. Like the fact that she can’t volunteer. She’s in the boarding school just in case she’s chosen, not because she’s supposed to be a future volunteer. 

If she were to get taken out, it wouldn’t be permanent, but it would be long enough to put a dent in her training in the boarding school. Of course, in this hypothetical situation, if she didn’t get better quickly, she’d stay out for as long as it took. And stuff like that is unpredictable.

“Makes sense,” you say, turning your back to her as you resume your cooking, “Nervous for your first year?”

“Kinda.” She admits, joining your side, “You don’t think that they’ll put my name in extra times or something, right?”

You give her a look, “I talked to Mayor Burrula, he’s going to make sure you don’t go in there more than once.”

Alyssum smiles slightly, “Finnick feeling better?”

“Yes, he’s still sleepin’ though.”

“So he’ll be at the reaping?”

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You smile, “Do you need help with your hair?”

“When you have time, yes.” She turns her back to you, “Can you do my bow?”

While you do her bow properly, Alyssum has a perfect view of the staircase, allowing her to watch Reed come down. His hair is messy, eyes tired like they always are. It takes him a second to realize that you and Alyssum are in the kitchen, but he does eventually.

“You’re up early,” Reed says, raising his eyebrow at Alyssum.

“Went to bed early.” You say.

He nods, heading to the mug cupboard, pulling a random one off the shelf. A collection has grown over the years, allowing a variety to be picked. Still, Reed’s pick isn’t as random as Alyssum says, he uses the same three mugs over and over again, never in a specific order. 

This time he’s chosen the one that has an outline of the Capitol’s city. 

“You’re all tied up.” You say, standing up again, “Grab yourself a few pancakes, be careful not to spill on that dress.”

“Thank you.” Alyssum chirps, helping herself to the goodies along the counter. She skips over the syrup entirely, preferring the plain taste of pancakes soaked with butter.

She eats quietly, listening to the conversation that you and Reed have. It’s nothing of importance just yet, those topics are typically saved until Finnick and Mox come out. All news can wait until everyone is in attendance.

It really isn’t long before that’s the case. Finnick is down the stairs next, placing a gentle hand on Alyssum’s shoulder as he passes. His hair is much tamer than what Reed’s was, and his first stop is the coffee machine.

You pause the conversation long enough to move the mug you’re using, handing it off to poor Finnick, who doesn’t even realize what he’s drinking out of until it’s too late. His own face is staring him in his eyes. 

Alyssum watches you hold a smile, lips pressing together in an attempt to stifle the laughter that’s working its way out.

“You’re evil.” Finnick mutters, voice a little raspy.

“I can’t imagine what you mean.” You say back, a knowing smile on your face.

“You’re lucky you make good coffee.” Finnick points with his pinky finger.

A few minutes later, Mox is coming down the stairs, hair tied back so that it’s out of his face, “And I am the last one downstairs, yet again.”

“Since we’re all here, here’s the plan,” you start, not wasting time, “I’m going to get Alyssum ready first, then it’s my turn so I can see Mags and Anchor before noon. After that it’s a free for all—just make sure you’re at the reaping area early for Alyssum.”

“Finnick going with you?” Reed asks.

“I’m gonna need extra time to get ready, so she’ll swing by and grab me before she goes.” Finnick says, taking a sip of the coffee again.

“Sounds like a plan.” Mox is loading his plate with pancakes, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, turning your attention to Alyssum, “Ready?”

Alyssum nods, laying her fork onto her plate. You sweep both up quickly, leaving them in the sink before ushering Alyssum up the stairs. She doesn’t have her shoes on just yet, wanting to wait until the last minute to put them on. They’re brand-new, and even with the constant reminders around her to break in the shoes, she forgot to.

“What do you want to do with your hair?” you ask, following her into her bedroom, “Braids, ponytail, something else?”

“Can you do the two buns like you did the other day?” Alyssum asks, pulling her chair in front of her mirror.

“On the back of your head or lower?” you touch the spots to give her an idea.

“Top--or in the middle.” 

Alyssum sits in the chair, watching you get to work behind her. You’re gentle when you handle her hair, nimble fingers that have her hair in position within a few minutes of starting. You’ve had a lot of practice over the years, most of the smaller girls in the boarding school end up needing help with their hair when they learn. With everyone having their own preferences, or hair types, you began to learn quickly.

“When your hair dries a little more, I’ll curl these front pieces, okay?” you say, eyes fixated on the bun you’re putting in place, “What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty, I think.”

“Do you want to run to the Square real quick and see if they have Mox’s shampoo?” you secure the other bun, pushing in the bobby pin.

“Sure.”

You smile behind her, patting her shoulders, “Don’t touch them too much, be back before eleven-thirty.”

“I will, thank you.” Alyssum smiles back.

After you leave the room, Alyssum pulls on her Mary Jane’s, already not liking the back the back of the shoe rubs against her heel. This’ll definitely be the last time she shrugs you all off when you try to give her advice. She’s going to end up with blisters, and who knows what that’ll do to her training?

On the way out of the room, she grabs a hold of her pocket knife, the one that you gifted to her. When it happened, Reed wasn’t too thrilled about it, and Alyssum understands why. He came around to the idea, though. Especially after Finnick calmly explained that the logic doesn’t pull through, there’s a lot of things that Alyssum does that she shouldn’t be doing at her age. Why stop now?

Mox and Reed are still in the kitchen and dining room area when she passes through, talking about what the betting might look like this year. Ever since District Four got Annie, they’ve begun to pick up speed with the careers, making it to the end of the games before they’re killed.

There’s always been betting inside of District Four, it’s not anything new. The Capitol isn’t the only exclusive place that does it, it’s just a matter of popularity. It’s likely to be more popular in the other districts though, always wondering if they’ll finally have an outlier that makes it to the finale.

It’s hardly ever the case. 

Alyssum sticks her hand into the cash jar, pulling out the bills that she’s going to need. Everything in the Square is pretty cheap, but everyone in the house has started a habit of paying more than what they need to. There’s more than enough money that goes around the house, yours and Finnicks’ victor checks combined is a huge influx. 

They would have to make a genuine effort to make a dent in the allowance, which says a lot about what the Capitol can afford to give away.

After tucking the cash into the pockets on her dress, she stops at the dining room table briefly, “I’m going to get Mox’s shampoo, I’ll try to be quick.”

“You have your pocket knife?” Reed asks.

She pulls it out of her pocket, showing him the black weapon. It’s folded, tightly secured, it won’t be ripping the inside of her dress. With how often she plays with it, though, it’s only a matter of time before she ends up cutting open her hand. She’s smart enough to play with it out in the open when she does, though. It’ll be easier to clean up the bloodstains than to repair the dress.

“Stay safe.” Mox says.

“I will.”

She’s out of the house after that, taking her time to get to the Square. The original house that Reed inherited after their parents’ death was a lot closer to the black market than the victor house they own now. In a sense, Victor’s Village is near the more expensive stores, since they’re now affordable. It’s a longer walk to get to the Square because of this.

Still, Alyssum enjoys the entire time it takes her to get there. She sees a few of her neighbors outside, offering waves and small smiles. Most of them are friendly, you all have had years to get to know them, and they ended up warming up just fine. Others aren’t as open, for a number of reasons.

You won the Hunger Games, and afterwards came a lot of changes. A lot of losses at the beginning of your mentorship, the boarding school, the strictness of the reaping, and the economy changed regarding the smaller businesses on the poorer side of District Four. 

It was all inevitable, the more victors that come into District Four, the more the changes are going to be. In a way, they hold all the influence of who stays open and who stays closed. Like Alyssum was saying, they all live closer to the expensive side of District Four, so it’s expected that they spend their money there. Yet, they still end up going to the poor shops, which changes the expectations.

It’s hard to tell someone what to do with their money, especially when they’re already doing a lot for the area they live in. Still, people find a way to do it anyway. And if they’re not being vocal about it, then they’re surely not being shy with the way they look at people.

Mox has told her stories about where they used to live, a house that’s still in their possession. She’s been back a few times, but it doesn’t hold any sentimental value to her. She doesn’t remember living there, and the few memories that she tries to cough up are likely made up. She really relies on what her older siblings have to say about the place.

A constant story that’s brought up is always about the neighbors in that area. How kind, generous, understanding they are. Even after you won your games, they never left the Gallows’ family side, because they’re all one big community there. Through thick and thin, they support the families that always get the lesser. Babysitters, meals, clothes, gateways to jobs, anything that a person needed, someone in that neighborhood would find a way to get it to them.

Alyssum may not have experienced it first hand just yet, but she hopes that she’ll be able to see it in person. There’s not much hope for District Four if there’s no humanity that goes around.

Like every reaping day, the Square is crawling with people. There’s a bouncer of sorts outside of the warehouse, someone she hasn’t seen before. She normally knows the people that stand outside as lookouts. Busts on the Square aren’t common, but it’s happened enough times for people to finally crack and make sure that there’s a person standing outside at all times during the busy days like today.

It’s a man, with short dark hair and brown eyes. His arms are crossed, he’s leaned back against the uneven metal of the building’s wall. At first, when Alyssum approaches, he seemingly pays no attention to her. It’s only when she makes a move to go inside, does he finally react, putting his arm out to stop her.

“You can’t go in.” he says, looking her over.

Alyssum raises her eyebrows, giving him a small smile, “Why not?”

“It’s not a place for people like you.” His tone is simple, slightly annoying. Just because she’s dressed nice, she’s not allowed to go inside?

Her hand secures around her pocket knife, thumb over the space that’ll allow her to flip open the knife, “You’re new here, that’s okay.” she states, watching the man’s face, “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but you do know that you piss off the vendors when you turn people away, right? Especially the regulars, like me.” 

She finally pulls out the knife, motioning to his arm with a straight face, “Move it, or I’ll make you.”

He doesn’t move at first, staring her down to see if she’s serious. When Alyssum doesn’t crack either, he finally moves his arm, allowing her entry.

“I’m Alyssum, by the way.” she flicks her knife shut, shoving it back into her pocket, “My older sister is (Y/n), I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

She slips her way inside, leaving the man to realize the minor mistake he made. There’s enough people inside of the Square for it to be claustrophobic, her arm is always touching someone else. It’s not enough to make her worry about the well-being of her dress, though. If she really thinks that it’ll get damaged, she smoothes it down just enough to slip by.

The vendor she’s going to isn’t that far inside, yet it takes forever for her to actually get there. Many people want to stop and have a conversation with her, all of them knowing that this is her first year for the reaping. It’s all good words, reassurances that she won’t get chosen. The chances of it happening are too slim, and there’s plenty of volunteers that’ll want to get to have their try at the Hunger Games.

At the table, the vendor already has Mox’s shampoo on the surface. All Alyssum has to do is pay and grab the bottle, thanking the vendor and assuring him that he’ll be seeing her siblings soon. She waves goodbye, and takes her time leaving the Square. When the sun finally hits her face again, she stops a familiar face long enough to catch the time, finding out that she has thirty minutes to make it back home.

She doesn’t waste time anymore, trying to take the shortcuts so that she can get back to the house quicker. She doesn’t have to rush too badly, Mox is always the last to shower every year. He likes to let everyone else go before him, not minding the cold water. He’s also by far the quickest when it comes to showers.

Victor’s Village is just as barren as always, the silence overwhelming. It’s weird to think that there are seven different families living in the little neighborhood, yet there isn’t a single sound to prove that. Alyssum is sure not to disturb the peace, quietly making her way up the house steps.

Finnick is sitting at the dinner table when she goes inside, head resting against his hand, eyes closed. She doesn’t say anything to him as she goes up the stairs, knowing that he needs the sleep. Finnick’s been sick for the last couple of weeks, and you were convinced that he wouldn’t get better before the games. It wasn't normal sickness, Finnick had been out of it for weeks.

He only recently started feeling better, rising from the steep dip that he suddenly took. You didn’t want to push him into the normal routine so early, but he insisted that he got back to it as soon as possible. There was a slight rift when it came to that, in the end you gave it up, making him promise that he’ll take it easy and not strain himself too badly.

Alyssum drops the shampoo off in the bathroom, and then heads towards Mox’s bedroom down the hall, to the right. She knocks quietly a few times as a warning before opening the door. Mox’s head is raised, waiting to see who’s at the door. 

“Shampoo’s in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” Mox smiles, “(Y/n) wanted me to tell you that she’s taking you to the reaping, so stick near Finnick.”

“Gotcha.”

Alyssum heads back to her bedroom to put on any finishing accessories that she might want to wear. She had laid out a lot of potential earlier, knowing that she would end up changing her mind on a lot of it, like the ribbon. And there’s not nearly enough time to curl the front of her hair, anymore. She’s left to wind it around her finger to give it some temporary curl.

She empties her pocket knife onto her desk, setting it off to the side. She pulls on the gifted bracelet, and a dainty ring that Mox got her that same birthday. Alyssum’s ears are pierced, so she carefully works in silver stars. She doesn’t wear earrings often anymore, and it’s because they get caught on fabric and hair when she trains in the boarding school.

She takes a step back to see herself in the mirror, and a broad smile covers her face. 

She looks so pretty.

Finnick is still at the table when she gets back downstairs, the only difference is that he’s awake now. He’s drumming his fingertips against the table, sounding off a steady rhythm. He doesn’t seem to notice Alyssum at first, not until she’s pulling out a chair to sit at the table.

“When did you come in?” he asks, looking her over.

“While you were napping.” she smiles, playing with her bracelet.

He hums.

The two of them sit in silence while they wait for you to finish your rounds. It’s a daily occurrence, the job of it just bounces back and forth between you, Finnick and Anchor. The older victor’s need to be checked up on, starting with Mags, then Luther, and finally, Scotch. Annie has her family so she doesn’t need to be looked over as vigilantly.

Ninety percent of the time, they don’t need to be checked up on. It’s the other ten percent of the time that makes it worth it, though. Luther’s taken some nasty spills recently, forcing him to move to the downstairs part of his house to avoid another accident. Or like a few years ago, when Mags had her stroke, and you’d found her before it had been too late.

It also helps build relationships, too. It lets the other victor’s know that someone cares, even if it’s the person across the street. Scotch wasn’t always friendly, it took years of talking to and invitations to finally get him to open up. He never married, didn’t have any kids. Luther’s wife died a long time ago, he didn’t want any kids. And Mags only has your family to rely on.

Remember what Alyssum had said about community? Victor’s Village didn’t have one, not until you and Finnick rolled around. It took years of building, but it got there, and it’s what keeps the neighborhood running. Not to mention, it takes an hour, two max to check up on the others.

It’s not a waste of time, not if it can save lives.

The door opens a little while later, revealing you. Upon seeing that Alyssum and Finnick are ready to go, a smile appears on your face, waving for them to get a move on.

“Sorry I took so long, apparently Luther needed to shower so I had to go and grab Anchor.” you hold the door open for Alyssum, allowing Finnick to take care of it when he walks out last.

“You didn’t wash him yourself?” Finnick jokes, you give him a playful eye roll. 

“No, I’ll leave the sponge baths to you and Anchor.”

Mags is waiting at the bottom steps, cane in hand. She doesn’t really need it, it’s just extra support to take the weight off of her feet. Together, the four of them start to head towards the courtyard area where the reaping takes place. This year, Anchor has agreed to go ahead and take Scotch and Luther to the reaping. As always, Annie’s family can take care of their daughter.

The walk is fairly quiet, with only you and Finnick talking, and the occasional question being directed towards Alyssum. It's a lighthearted conversation, keeping Alyssum’s mind off of the fact that she’ll be standing with the other twelve year-olds in less than a half hour.

Besides the fact that the courtyard is so far, they left early so that they’d be able to get Alyssum signed in before it got too busy. The Capitol takes advantage of the Hunger Games’ reaping by keeping track of the population. Mostly just the children eligible for the reaping itself, they could care less about the actual adults that are too old for the games.

After all, their deaths will be recorded by the hospitals that get the misfortunate of reporting it.

“They already know that you exist, Alyssum,” you tell her once you see the station full of peacekeepers, “All you have to do is tell them your name and they’ll take a blood sample. It’s going to hurt for just a second.”

“And then I go and find you?”

“We’ll be nearby, you don’t have to go searching too far.” Finnick says.

Alyssum gives them a nod, “Okay.”

She splits from them, heading towards the end of the line. It’s moving at a steady pace, it’ll be her turn in no time. From where she stands, it looks like there’s not a lot of people in the fenced-in area for the reaping. She’ll get to choose where she wants to stand, and it’ll be in view of you.

Alyssum watches the boy ahead of her, stating his name, and then holding out his hand for the peacekeeper to take when they’re ready. He moves on quickly, going straight towards the courtyard, and suddenly it’s Alyssum’s turn.

She moves forward, “Alyssum Gallows.”

The peacekeeper writes the name down, “Twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Sister of (Y/n), right?” he looks up, the visor on his helmet is at the top, allowing her to see the peacekeeper’s eyes. They’re a dark brown, not a very common color inside of District Four. He’s definitely from the Capitol, “The victor?”

Well, obviously the victor. There’s no one else in District Four with the last name of Gallows, and it's because it was hand-picked by a great-grandmother during the Dark Days. The family name wasn’t always Gallows.

“Yes.” Alyssum says it slower this time, eyes narrowing slightly. What is he getting at?

He holds out his gloved hand for hers, presumably for the blood draw. He secures it, yanking her forward, closer to the table as he brings up the buzzer. Just by looking at his eyes, the wrinkles that have engraved themselves in the corners, he’s got a smile of sorts on his face. She’s got a sick feeling it isn’t friendly, though.

He tazes the tip of her finger, presses the print down onto the space beneath her name, and doesn’t let go immediately, “The Capitol will love you.”

Alyssum recoils, pulling her hand free. She’s careful not to touch the blood to the outside of her dress, instead she opts for shoving them straight into her pockets, staring down at the man, “It’s a shame they didn’t like you the same, isn’t it?” she can see the wrinkles fading, which means his smile is going, “After all, you became a peacekeeper.”

She goes to leave, a step in, when another thought comes to mind. A grin covers her face, eyes landing on the man again, who’s no longer as smug as he was before, “And the Capitol already loves me.”

She walks away, heading straight to you and Finnick. She doesn’t have to grab your attention, because the two of you are caught between looking at her, and looking at the peacekeeper that had just given her a hard time.

“What did he say?” Finnick asks, you press a hand to her back, ushering her to the stage.

“He asked if I was your sister, was all.” Alyssum says.

“Besides that, he said something else.” you say, “I know he did, because you wouldn’t have pulled away like that.”

Alyssum shrugs, “He said, ‘The Capitol will love you’ and so I told him that they do.”

She doesn’t miss how you and Finnick share a look. It’s not very subtle at all, she’d like to read your minds, but she hasn’t gotten to that point yet. She does begin to get a little worried when you stop walking, and make her stop too.

“We talked to Elysia and Mayor Burrula.” Finnick reminds you.

“But they aren’t in charge--” you start, pausing briefly to secure your hands over Alyssum’s ears. It’s all muffled, too hard for her to hear besides a few words. She thinks you mention President Snow and the Capitol, that’s as far as she can hear, though.

The hands are removed, and Alyssum is being pushed towards the stage again.

“Is everything okay?” Alyssum asks, looking at you.

You give her a gentle smile, “Yes, the reaping starts in fifteen minutes, so why don’t you go ahead and stand at the twelve section, okay?”

Alyssum nods, allows you to grab her head to place a quick kiss on the top of it. Finnick gives her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, and then follows you to the stage. Mags has already taken her seat, right next to Luther, Scotch and Anchor. When Alyssum turns to get a quick glance behind her, she’s able to see that Annie is coming up. Reed and Mox are not in sight.

They always arrive late. You asked them to be early this morning, but that’s practically impossible for them to do. They always have something going on, an extra-long shower, stopping at Caspian’s house, walking slower than normal. The most that Alyssum will probably get is five minutes before the reaping. If she enters now, like you asked her to, then she won’t be getting those few minutes.

It’s not all that important, anyway. She’ll be seeing them after the reaping, and maybe a quick goodbye from you before you and Finnick go to the Capitol to mentor.

She takes a deep breath, and then goes forward, passing the peacekeepers that are in charge of corralling the teenagers and keeping them inside. She has to walk all the way up to the front, since the older kids are required to stand in the back. It’s mostly because of height differences, it makes it a lot easier to actually see the eligible faces of the young if the old aren’t in the way.

There’s not a lot of girls in her section, so she positions herself wherever she wants. She can see your chair, and where the Mayor and Capitol escort is, and that’s really all that matters.

In the meantime, she keeps her feet planted and lets the other girls walk around her. One of Alyssum’s friends, Laleh, decides to stand right next to her, talking about her dress. Alyssum tries to be polite by listening to what she has to say, but eventually can’t pay attention anymore. Her hands are sweating and her stomach is twisting into knots.

As soon as there aren’t teenagers coming into the reaping area anymore, Mayor Burrula stands from where he was sitting. He heads towards the microphone, and starts his usual speech, starting with the history of Panem, moving onto the Dark Days and what brought them to the Hunger Games, and then the list of District Four’s victors.

“Mags Flanagan,” he starts, he holds no cards. The speech is committed to his memory, “Luther Burch, Scotch Holloway, Anchor Ridge, (Y/n) Gallows, Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta.”

A total of seven.

And with that, he introduces Elysia Petalsong, District Four’s Capitol escort.

This year, she’s dawned in a gentle blue, with fake seafoam strategically placed around her dress. She gives the mayor a smile, wandering her way up to the microphone on the podium. Alyssum’s had plenty of conversations with Elysia by now, so she knows that Elysia’s reliable and kind. District Four is lucky to have her.

“Happy Hunger Games,” Elysia’s accent isn’t as strong as some of the Capitol people Alyssum’s met, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. Let’s begin with the ladies.”

Elysia moves to the bowl on her left, her hands are also covered by gloves, this time white. The ones that the peacekeepers have are black and leather, most smooth to the touch. The one sitting at the table wasn’t, it’s obviously had its fair share of wear and tear.

She stops in front of the girls bowl, a smile on her face. She sticks her hand in, picking a slip of paper that’s pressed to the glass bowl. With two fingers, she brings it back out, taking her time to find her place back at the podium again.

Alyssum can feel her heart beating in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. She’s only twelve, she knows her name is only in there one time, so why is she feeling this way? There are many, many other girls that could be called, who’s to say that it’s her?

The feeling doesn’t shake, not even when she looks at you.

This scene, it’s too familiar...

Elysia unfolds the paper slip, a smile on her face. She inhales, preparing to say the name, but it never comes. She deflates, the microphone catching the wind. Elysia seems to go rigid, eyes glued to the paper slip between her gloved fingers. 

Alyssum can see you sit up taller, eyebrows inward and trying to see if you can catch the name yourself. It must be too far, because you’re shaking your head and shrugging at Finnick. 

Another couple of seconds pass, and it’s enough to make the head peacekeeper impatient. He clears his throat, letting her know to get a move on. It’s enough to finally slap her out of her daze, blinking several times. When she speaks, though, it’s barely above a whisper.

“The girl’s tribute this year is--um--” she pauses for a moment again, shaking her head, taking in a deep breath. She ends up letting out half of it before she speaks again, “--Alyssum Gallows.”

It hits Alyssum, making her go rigid.

Her nightmare, she remembers what it’s been, and why this whole scene was so familiar. It’s because she’s lived this exact scenario several times a week, leading up to today. It wasn’t just a nightmare, it was the future. 

The now.

Alyssum lifts her head slightly, eyes finding you first, wanting to make sure that this is real, this isn’t some dream. By the way you’ve braced yourself against the chair, hands gripped around the seat, how Finnick has his hand wrapped around your stomach, holding you back. It’s real, this is all real.

She sucks in a sharp breath, her hands curling into fists as she moves to go to the aisle. The volunteers will not be immediate, after District Four started getting so many, the Capitol encouraged Mayor Burrula to fall back on the old rules; the original children get up to stage, and then volunteers are asked.

Alyssum can still hear her heart in her ears, feel the back of her shoes rubbing against her heels. She should’ve broke the shoes in, it wouldn’t be painful to walk, had she just broke the shoes in.

She relaxes her hands, forcing a smile on her face, despite the grim looks that everyone on stage is sharing at the moment. The peacekeepers march her to the stairs, which is only a few feet away, and then they leave her to make the rest of the way up by herself.

Elysia gently takes Alyssum’s hand in hers, directing Alyssum to stand in front of the girls’ glass bowl. There’s a constant thought running through her head, reminding her that every camera is currently on her and her older sister. Everyone in the Capitol is currently on the edge of their seats.

Alyssum Gallows, younger sister of (Y/n) Gallows. Or as you’re professionally known, The Executioner.

From way up there, on the stage, Alyssum can finally see her brothers, who also aren’t looking too hopeful. Reed has paled severely, lost all color in his face. Mox doesn’t even look like he’s inside of his own body anymore, just staring straight forward.

Alyssum can understand why you’re all looking this way, horrified. It’s because you all knew it was a possibility, you didn’t think that it would come true. 

Even with his current state, Reed waves a hand to catch Alyssum’s attention. He has his lips pressed together, face twisted. She’s never seen him cry before, but that might change today. Still, he stands up taller, draws his shoulders back, and raises his chin. Then, he motions to her.

She understands, and follows what he did, one at a time. He wants her to look confident, standing tall and brave. It’s a smart tactic, takes away the idea that she’s scared.

“And now, to the boys.” Elysia isn’t as confident, moving towards the boys’ bowl.

She digs her hand into the paper slips, and pulls out one that was sitting in the middle. No matter where she grabs from, there will be an unlucky child that’s called to the stage. There’s no escaping it. Alyssum is a good example of this.

Back at the microphone, she unwraps the tape and clears her throat, “The boy tribute for this year is Delroy Hardin.”

Alyssum recognizes the name, he’s in the boarding school. And funny enough, he’s fifteen, so she’s trained alongside him. Just like Alyssum, he’s good, just not perfect yet. With more time, both of them will get there.

Delroy comes out of the right side in the boys section. The peacekeepers spot him, and join his side for the march up front. He looks straight ahead, not paying attention to them. During the few conversations that Alyssum’s had with him, he was standoffish at the beginning. 

It’s not really a surprise that he’s not a big fan of the peacekeepers.

He takes his time going up the steps, Elysia guides him to his place behind the boys’ glass ball. When she returns to the podium, she seems to have lightened up a little.

“Any volunteers?” She asks.

For a moment, it’s still, then a hand shoots up in the seventeen section for the boys, none of the girls move. Which is fine, because Elysia is going to ask again, anyway.

“I volunteer!” The teen emphasizes, coming out of the section. The peacekeepers spot him, and move him forward to the front.

Alyssum knows him, too. He’s from the boarding school, but even worse, he’s the brother of Marsh Milillio—Annie’s tribute counterpart who ended up being decapitated. Paslee Milillio has come close to going inside of the Hunger Games once before already, and that’s when Marsh volunteered over him.

She holds her breath, wanting to look at you.

Delroy backs up, allowing space for Paslee to take his place. First, he joins Elysia at the microphone to introduce himself.

“And what’s your name?” She asks.

“Paslee Milillio.” He echoes Alyssum’s thoughts.

Elysia doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Alyssum wonders what Annie looks like, actually.

“Brother of Marsh Milillio?” Elysia asks slowly.

“Yes.” Paslee nods, and then flashes a smile.

“Thank you for your nobility.” She says, queueing Paslee to take Delroy’s place. Once he stops moving, she turns to the mic again, “Any girl volunteers?”

Silence. No one moves. Alyssum can hear the wind whistling in her ears, and feel her heart beat harder in her chest, knees locking so that she stays upright.

“No volunteers.” Elysia says, taking a deep breath, “Well, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

She backs up, allowing Alyssum to see Paslee. The two of them shake hands now, she’s seen it happen a dozen times. She forces a smile on her face, being the first to move forward. Paslee’s hand is warm, and he’s got a tight grip. They shake once, and then twice.

Once again, Alyssum turns to face everyone standing in the sections. The Capitol’s anthem blares overheard, hurting her ears. And she doesn’t miss how Mox is crying, a fist pressed to his mouth. 

As soon as the anthem is done, she’s getting swept into the Justice Building. Paslee is taken one way, she’s brought the other. They put her in a room with velvet couches and lock the door behind them, leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Alyssum stares at the window, not knowing whether to laugh, to cry, or to pinch herself. It feels like she’s dreaming, as if none of this is actually real, but she runs her hand along the couch and she can feel the softness beneath her fingertips. 

Still, for good measure, she pinched herself, tighter and tighter. The pain grows, and there’s a red spot when she pulls her hand away. She’s not dreaming, she’s still awake.

Alyssum takes a seat on the couch, places her hands together, and then slides them between her thighs. She leans forward, prepared to get up at any moment while she stares at the sunbeams on the floor.

She’s only twelve, her name was on one paper slip. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence, like it just-so-happened to have turned out this way. It feels planned, especially since no one volunteered over her. Every single year, there’s been two volunteers, why is this year any different?

It takes only a moment for her to realize.

The peacekeeper just before the reaping, he knew that this was coming. He knew, and that’s why he said something, to taunt her. You and Finnick had gone out of your way to make sure that Alyssum wouldn’t get picked for the Hunger Games, and still, the Capitol always finds its way.

But why would they want her now? Why wouldn’t they want to wait until she was older? Is it because of experience?

With the thousands of questions running through her mind, Alyssum nearly misses the fact that the door opens. She looks up, and then over at the area to see who is first to say goodbye. Of course, it’s her family.

Reed, Mox, you, and Finnick are all coming toward her at once, with widely different reactions on your faces. Alyssum stands, and collides with Reed first, who holds her tightly, tight enough for her to think that her ribs are going to break. She squeezes back, eyes closed.

“I am so--” your voice is wavering, Alyssum pulls away long enough to see the tears in your eyes, “--sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She hugs you next, even though she knows that she’ll be around you for the whole week. 

“You can do this.” Reed says, “All you have to do is remember your training, okay? You’ve got five years right now.”

Her head bobs, moving on to Mox. He lets out a shaky breath, sucking in quickly afterwards. When she moves off of him, you and Reed work at the same pace. You take off her bracelet, he slides off of Mox’s ring. The two of you pocket the jewelry, and she doesn’t have time to argue before there’s a replacement being presented.

A necklace.

It’s blue, reflecting the sunlight that comes through the window. It has a silver chain, and she very carefully lifts it into the air to get a better look at it. She has a feeling she should know where it’s coming from, but she can’t place her finger on it.

“It’s tanzanite.” your voice is soft, quiet, “It was mom’s, and before that, it was grandma’s too.”

“And it’s going to be your token.” Reed says, cupping her hands, “We love you.”

“Thank you,” Alyssum says, “Thank you.”

Reed pulls her back into a hug, head angled backward to look at the ceiling. Alyssum can hear their thoughts, even if they’re not being said aloud. They can’t believe that they’ve spent eleven years raising her, protecting her, loving her. Only for it to come back down on them in the worst way possible. You getting chosen for the Hunger Games was bad enough, this is--was--out of the question.

“You listen to (Y/n) and Finnick,” Reed starts, she knew this was coming, it was inevitable, “Every word they say, every piece of advice they have to give, you listen to it and you find a way to make it work.”

“Yes.” she says.

“No,” Reed says suddenly, making her look him in the eyes, “Promise me, right now.”

No one wants to say it. No one wants to say that she has a little to no chance of winning, that it’s not funny. Finnick was the youngest victor to ever win, and that’s with the help of you. There hasn’t been a single tribute younger that’s come close to winning.

It would take a miracle for her to pull it off.

“I promise.” Alyssum says, “I will listen to (Y/n) and Finnick.”

“Good.” he breathes, he doesn’t look more at ease.

The sound of the doorknob turning across the room, makes them all look over. The peacekeeper on the other side stares into the room for a second, and then says, “Time’s up.”

Alyssum watches as you and Finnick join the group hug that’s given to her, and then quickly back away so she can have an official goodbye with her brothers. Reed squeezes her, Mox cries into her shoulder, the both of them telling her that they love her.

Just before you exit the room, you stop next to the door, “Cameras are at the train station, so chin up, okay? Big smiles.”

The peacekeeper shuts the door as soon as you’re out of the way, leaving Alyssum alone again. She’s sure that she won't get any more visitors. Laleh is her friend, but her mother will hold her back from doing it. Instead, Alyssum stares at the necklace for a while longer, running her thumb over the smooth rock. 

You wouldn’t have given it to her if you knew that it had the chance of getting declined from being a token. Which means that she’ll be able to represent mom, and grandma, just like you had when you went into the games. You took that engagement ring, a family heirloom, and took the spirit of your family with. Maybe the necklace will have the same effect.

Actually, she’s counting that it will.

When the peacekeepers come back, it’s to collect her and bring her to the car. By then, she’s already got the necklace around her neck, so she follows them to where they guide her to be. Inside of the car is Elysia and Paslee, the door slams shut behind her.

The ride from the Justice Building to the train station isn’t all that long. It’s enough time for Alyssum to think about how this is her second time in a car, ever. The first time being when you had been chosen for the Hunger Games, and Reed and Mox needed a speedy way to get to the train station before you did. She was only three then, she doesn’t remember a single thing from it. Not even the urgency.

Elysia is required to get out of the car first, Alyssum is directed next. She doesn’t miss how badly the back of her feet hurt, and bites back the facial expressions she wants to make. Paslee comes out after, graceful and smiling. The two of them are brought to the platform, and stand there to allow the Capitol to get a good look at them before the train takes them away.

Reed and Mox are at the very front. Reed’s arms are crossed, face in a frown, and briefly musters a smile just for her. Mox is still crying, hands pressed together in a prayer, which are against his lips. He’s shaking his head, disbelief, she thinks it is.

Alyssum gives them a smile, blows a kiss, and then waves.

“Okay, come on.” Elysia finally says, pressing a hand to each of their shoulders, pushing them inside of the train.

The door shuts, the train immediately beginning to move. You and Finnick are nowhere in sight just yet, and Alyssum has a feeling it’s because Elysia has to give a tour of the train first. The Justice Building in District four is nice inside, probably a lot better than the poorer districts--she won’t even bother to compare it to the other career districts--but the train is even nicer.

Alyssum and Paslee each get their own bedrooms, private bathrooms, and large dressing rooms. It’s better than her house back home, of course. However, she still wouldn’t trade her small bedroom and the bathroom across the hallway for anything here. The dressers inside of the bedroom are filled with expensive clothing from brands that she didn’t even know existed. Elysia keeps repeating that they can do whatever they want on the train, wear the clothes without charge, this is their time to be comfortable before the chaos of the Capitol.

Elysia stops in the hallway that’s shared between the two tribute bedrooms, with Alyssum to her right and Paslee to her left, “Neither of you will see the mentors until supper, which is in an hour. I suggest showering, changing, letting out any emotions you might be feeling beforehand.”

“Thank you.” Alyssum says.

“Yes, thank you.” Paslee repeats.

Elysia smiles at the both of them, leaving through the door they all came through. For a moment, the two tributes stand there, not moving to go to their rooms. Paslee is the first to speak up.

“Do you want to try out an alliance?” he asks, “And decide later on if we want to stick to it?”

Alyssum gives him a smile, “Sure.”

He gives her a smile back, splitting ways. Alyssum gets into her bedroom, only a few steps in, the door just barely closing behind her, and she’s already bursting into tears, a hand clamped over her mouth. She squeezes her eyes shut, lowering herself to the floor to sit down. It doesn’t feel real, none of this feels real. 

She sniffs, and she’s breaking down immediately after.

Her name was supposed to be inside of the bowl once. Who knows how many times the Capitol requested it be? They could have had the whole bowl be her name, and it wouldn’t have mattered what paper Elysia picked. All outcomes would’ve pointed to Alyssum, and she would have ended up here, on the train to the Capitol, a contender of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games.

She slams her fist into the carpet once, twice, three times. It hurts, she wants to stop, but she doesn’t know what else to do. How else is she supposed to let all of it out? Rip the clothing in the closet? Order plates and break them against the walls? Smash everything around her?

It’ll just create a mess that someone else will have to clean up. So, for now, she continues to slam her fist against the carpet, hoping that she’ll still have this frustration later on in the training center. That’s where all of this anger will really matter.

She should shower.

Alyssum pulls herself together, dragging her feet into the walk-in closet. She digs through the drawers, finding a pair of black jeans and a red shirt to wear. She skips over shoes, knowing that she’ll have plenty of time leftover to pick a pair out.

She places the necklace into a glass bowl, being careful not to tangle the silver chain. After she starts the shower, she undresses, using a hanger nearby to put the dress up. If she makes it out of the Hunger Games alive, she knows that she’ll ultimately want the dress as a keepsake, for whatever reason that may be later on. She doesn’t bother to pull out her hair, not wanting to get it wet in the first place.

She wants to use the bodywash that’s offered, the only problem is that she doesn’t want to wash away the floral scent from home. The one you picked out for her months ago, and she hasn’t been able to get enough of the smell ever since. In the end, she doesn’t have much of a choice, she smells like sweat from standing out in the sun for nearly an hour.

When she comes out of the shower, she gets dressed, and decides against shoes. If she’s going to be walking through the train to get to the dinner table, she should be fine. It would be a different story if she had to go outside or step into anything dirty. Knowing the Capitol, and how they prioritize safety, both of those scenarios have been ruled out.

Alyssum walks herself to the dinner car, running into Elysia on the way. Elysia gives her a small set of directions on how to get there, and then goes right back to trying to retrieve Paslee for dinner. Alyssum makes it to the car just fine, and just as Elysia had promised earlier, you and Finnick are sitting at the table.

“You look nice,” you say, you haven’t changed your outfit at all. Neither has Finnick.

“I skipped out on shoes.” Alyssum admits, taking a chair.

You suppress a laugh.

Elysia comes back a few minutes later, Paslee walking behind her. He’s hunched forward at first, until he notices that you and Finnick are here. He perks up, back straightening, a smile coming over his face again. He must be eager to learn, which is weird, because he’s learned everything possible in the five years he’s been with the boarding school.

Well, Alyssum thinks it’s five years.

Paslee takes his seat next to her.

“The dinner comes in courses,” you warn, allowing Elysia to sit, “Eat too much of just one food and you won’t have enough room for the rest.”

“I’d suggest eating small portions, and knowing how to pace yourself.” Finnick continues, “The food can make you feel sick after.”

Alyssum nods, Paslee does the same.

It starts with a vegetable soup, with potatoes, carrots, celery and more. It moves onto the salad, full of greens, then a beef roast, a light snack of crackers and cheese, and ends with a dessert of ice cream and a small chocolate cake that leaks fudge when it’s broken open.

All of it is delicious, far better than what Alyssum eats back home, which is typically the high-class stuff. With the Capitol money, you can afford the butcher shops, the real bread, the freshly grown vegetables. She’s never had to endure the same pain that you have. Still, even with Reed’s cooking--something he’s very good at--he doesn’t even compare to what she’s just eaten.

She’s full, but craving more. She’s glad that she’ll be able to eat like this for the rest of the week. If the tributes going into the arena with her don’t treat her well, then the food that the Capitol feeds her will. 

After their stomachs are settled, Elysia brings them all to a new compartment, one that will allow them to watch the recap of the reapings. This is the part that’s important, what Paslee and Alyssum have been waiting for. They can finally get a good idea of what their competition will look like, and decide whether or not alliances will be worth it.

As always, District One isn’t anything to get teary-eyed over. It was figured out years ago that the mentors pick their tributes prior to the Hunger Games. So when a tall, skinny boy volunteers, it’s not really noble. Neither is the blonde girl, who’s strikingly pretty, giving the crowd a white smile.

District Two follows the same pattern of volunteers, this time starting with girls. She looks average at first, but the truth is that she’s strong, even if she did walk out of the fifteen section. And undoubtedly, she is much heavier than Alyssum is. Her tribute counterpart is just as terrifyingly large, he’d be able to kill Alyssum without blinking.

She doesn’t like to watch the recap of the District Four reaping as much, pressing her lips together and trying to focus on Caesar and Claudius’ narration.

“And finally, the last of the careers,” Caesar says, “District Four.”

Elysia follows through with her normal routine, picks the girl tribute, and then stands at the podium. This is when it stops, because she’s not speaking immediately, and her Capitol facade dies.

“What’s taking her so long?” Claudius asks.

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to pronounce the name?” Caesar suggests, leaning his chin against his hand.

She suddenly jolts upwards, which must be because of the peacekeeper. She takes a deep breath, and quietly repeats the name for everyone watching. It’s loud enough for the microphone to catch the words, but just barely.

Caesar straightens up, eyebrows drawing in, “Did she say Alyssum Gallows?”

“I think so.”

“Must be why it took her so long.” Caesar looks at the camera now, Alyssum can feel the history lesson coming, “For those of you who don’t know--”

Claudius scoffs, “--which should be impossible--”

“--Alyssum is the younger sister of (Y/n) Gallows, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, alongside Finnick Odair.” Caesar finishes.

“We should note that there is no guarantee that she goes inside.” Claudius says, “District Four has had an incline of volunteers over the past ten years.”

Caesar nods, agreeing.

Alyssum makes it to the top of the stage, standing with her hands at her sides, smiling at her brothers below. Elysia calls Delroy, who comes up to the stage too. This is when Elysia asks for volunteers, Paslee comes to the stage. And for one final time, volunteers are asked for again, with no response.

“And just like that, Alyssum is going to the Capitol.” Caesar smiles, “I can’t wait to see if she’s anything like her older sister.”

“They make me sick.” You spit, crossing your arms.

The following six districts don’t stand out to Alyssum in any way. District Eleven picks at her interest when another twelve year-old is picked, and met with the same wind-whistling answer when volunteers are asked for. As for District Twelve, it was nearly another repeat, another girl, but her older sister volunteered over her before she even got to the stage.

And then the program ends.

They all sit in silence, staring at the television as Caesar and Claudius begin talking about what they noticed throughout the reapings but didn’t have time to point out, the predictions will follow soon after. Elysia goes to turn off the tv out of habit, never making it past the reapings anymore.

You catch her hand, stopping her from pressing the button, “Wait.”

They mill around with Districts One and Two, going back and forth on commenting on their tributes. Someone then says something off-screen, making the two men lean back and swivel in the direction the sound is coming from.

“What was that, my dear?” Caesar asks, cupping his ear and leaning forward.

The voice is much too quiet for the microphone to pick up, but they seem to hear the girl. Caesar raises his eyebrows, a smile coming to his face while the screen behind him changes to a picture of you from your reaping. 

“Oh.” Claudius says.

Caesar laughs slightly, “For those of you who didn’t catch that, one of our interns has noticed a similarity between reaping outfits for the Gallows sisters.”

It’s you, in this gold dress that you had inherited from your mother. Alyssum doesn’t recognize it, doesn’t even know where it came from. For all she knows, you bought it prior to the Hunger Games at the Square. 

Next, they fade in a picture of Alyssum standing on the stage, in her own gold dress. It makes her feel sick again, reinforcing her idea that this was planned, she was always going to go into the arena this year.

“It doesn’t matter if this was intentional or not, because I think it’s fantastic!” Caesar laughs, motioning to the screen, “There’s practically no difference between the two here, they look the same. She may only be twelve, but she’s already begun to leave a lasting impression. Once again, I can’t wait to see how this all plays out.”

“And let’s not forget the boy that volunteered--” Claudius is saying quickly, not wanting the subject to change, “Paslee Milillio, was it? We had a tribute a couple of years ago by the name of Marsh Milillio, and by what Paslee had said on stage, they’re brothers!”

“Yes,” Caesar says the word as if everyone has already made the connection, “We’ve got a lot of siblings going inside of the arena this year, including the girl from Twelve--”

The tv shuts off then, not allowing them to go any further.

Alyssum looks over her shoulder to see you tossing the remote back onto the couch, “We’ll be in the Capitol in a few hours. I suggest the two of you get some rest until then, you’re going to need it.”

“We’ll come and get you.” Elysia smiles, getting up from where she was sitting.

She’s the first to leave, Paslee is second. Alyssum doesn’t move from the couch until they’re both gone, and when they are, she’s throwing herself at you. You hug her tightly, rubbing her back.

“They did this on purpose, didn’t they?” Alyssum asks, sucking in deep breaths to keep herself crying.

“Yes, they did. And they’re going to regret it.”

--

BERCEUSE IS A SPIN-OFF //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @itsanantonia / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld / 

[incorrect-the-foxhole-court]

Northern Road Trip

This is my piece for the AFTG Gift exchange! I went for Andriel coz im a complete Andriel junkie, but i couldnt resist a little Renison on the side XD

This is for @andthenthefirenationattacked​ - I hope you like it! I’m sorry it’s not very good but I tried! (And if you wanna talk or fangirl about aftg at any point, i’m definitely around for that!)

Neil couldn’t remember a time he had felt this safe. Which, he had to admit, made no sense considering his current situation. Despite having family in England, an uncle who had once saved his life, the UK had never been a place that had screamed safety. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an endless stretch of rolling green hills that looked like they had been taken from one of Matt’s fantasy novels, and he felt…safe. It was as much a disquieting feeling as hope had once been.

The sky was a bright, forget-me-not blue that, after only five days in the country, he already knew was a rare blessing. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky, and the relief that they weren’t even a little grey had been unexpectedly strong when they had woken up this morning. Two cars idled behind him, the engines rumbling softly, and those inside were already betting on the upcoming games outcome and snacking on junk food that Kevin had already tried to throw out four times over.

Neil sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cold air settle in his lungs like shards of ice. Beautiful, this country, but cold. And wet. This was the first day they had been there that it hadn’t rained.

He could hear his old team behind him, laughing and joking, teasing Andrew for their stopping. It hadn’t been Andrew that had wanted to stop, but the goalie knew Neil too well now – had feigned car sickness to cover Neil’s need to see something. To see something other than exy courts and press rooms from the place his mother had come from. The woman had been cold and cruel and protective and beautiful, and standing there now, in the place she had always talked about, in Rivington, he could understand. The people he had met from around here felt like they had been born from the place itself. He could almost feel his mother in the wind’s cold fingers as it raked through his hair and cut straight through his winter coat to chill the blood in his veins.

“Neil! Come on! Andrew says he’s okay to keep going now,” Matt shouted, a grin on his face that was far too smug and pleased to merely be teasing.

Dan smacked him in the ribs as she disappeared around the other side of their hire car and slid into the driver’s seat. And then smacked the wheel in frustration, got out and went round to the passenger side door, grumbling about stupid English cars. Neil tuned out Matt and Allison’s teasing, both of them needling Dan about still not being used to which side of the car to get in, and turned to the other car. Renee smiled at Andrew before going to join the others.

Neil slid into the backseat next to Andrew, Aaron on the goalie’s other side, Kevin up front and Nicky driving. Within thirty minutes of driving, Andrew was asleep, head tipped back against the back of the seat – Neil wasn’t surprised, Andrew had barely slept since the flight, as though he was more scared than Neil that some relative would show up at their hotel. It wasn’t a secret they were in the UK; the whole world had known this is where they would be. The press had been covering the US exy team’s trip to the UK in excruciating detail for weeks. They had already had their games in Glasgow and London, and tomorrow, the last game of Us vs. UK, would take place in Manchester. London had been an easy win for the US Court, Andrew had barely bothered to try. Glasgow had been significantly more difficult. It had taken bribing Andrew to lock down the goal for them to come close to winning – even then it hadn’t been enough; they’d lost by two points.

Tomorrow’s game would decide who would face the Chinese team. And the old team from Palmetto State had come out to show their support as Kevin, Andrew and Neil, played their last UK game of the season, fighting to advance closer to the title of ‘Exy International Champions’. Kevin had been training and planning nonstop. It had taken Andrew’s knives to convince him to have this day off.

“Erm…Neil…?” Nicky asked, voice tight. Neil dragged his eyes away from staring out the window as the North sped by, and met Nicky’s worried eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Satnav is freaking out.”

“Get Andrew to fix it,” Aaron grunted, “he’s the tech wonder boy.”

“Waking Andrew up in a car has never been a good idea,” Nicky warned, no doubt thinking of that time all those years ago.

Neil could feel Aaron’s smirk as the man reached over and tapped his twin on the shoulder closest to Neil. From habit, Neil’s hand was out waiting as Andrew jolted from sleep, one hand instinctively reaching out. Their fingers twined together and held on tight. No elbow in the stomach, no fists flying, not anymore – they had been sleeping in the same bed now for nearly two years; Andrew was too used to being woken by Neil’s nightmares to react violently. Now it was a grasping hand and white knuckled grip, each proving to the other that they are here – that they are safe. On Andrew’s other side, Aaron huffed in frustration and turned his attention back to the steady stream of messages between him and Katelyn.  

“Satnav isn’t working properly,” Neil explained quietly, and Andrew shook off his grip, leaning forward to take it from Kevin.

“Going old school,” Nicky muttered to himself. “Gonna have to use these damn stupid road signs.”

Neil didn’t bother to watch what Andrew was doing to fix the machine – he had learnt a long time ago that when Andrew couldn’t sleep, he and one of the cats curled up on the sofa with an instruction manual of some sort. Andrew couldn’t sleep most nights. By this point, Andrew’s eidetic memory had given him the ability to fix almost anything technological.

It took them another hour and a half to reach the Lake District. They were aiming for a shop that the Northern players on the UK team hadn’t stopped raving about since the team meets had started. By the time they finally arrived, it was raining again.

They parked in a garden centre opposite a tiny little place called ‘The Grasmere Gingerbread Shop’ and stared out through rain-streaked windows. Nicky’s phone started ringing. He took the sat nav out of its holder, tossed it onto Kevin’s lap before balancing his phone in the slot instead. Allison’s face appeared on the screen, and then the rest of the others.

“So, how do we decide who goes out into the rain to get the damn gingerbread we drove for two hours to come and try?” Allison asked and Renee, in the driver’s seat beside her, tucked a few stray blonde curls behind her ear, dragging a smile from the otherwise annoyed face.

“Flip for it?” Nicky suggested.

Matt lost to Renee. Dan lost to Matt. Allison rolled her eyes and picked at a perfectly manicured nail, but called heads when she went up against Dan, only to lose. Storm clouds gathered on her face as she waited for the other car to decide who would flip against her.

Aaron called heads, Allison, tails. Aaron won.

Neil hadn’t heard swearing like that for a long time. He couldn’t help but smile. He had missed them all. He loved being on Court and he loved his team and exy, and playing with Andrew and Kevin, but he had missed being a fox.

Renee went with Allison, smiling as the blonde tried and failed to hide under the trees from the rain. Neil could hear through the cracked window Andrew was smoking through as Allison cursed everyone and everything for her having forgotten an umbrella. Renee just laughed and tugged her in for a kiss. Neil smiled again; it had taken them a long time to realise just how meant for each other they were – but now? Together? They were a sight for sore eyes.

Andrew blew another cloud of smoke past Neil’s face. He couldn’t help the deep inhale as the smoke curled past his nose. Andrew watched, utterly unimpressed – but Neil could read the affection in the stare. Smoke was no longer the reminder of his mother, of the fire, of how it had smelled when her body had burned. Now it was Andrew, it was nights on the roof, the bite of his key in his palm, the feel of a thundering heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Andrew’s knee nudged his, and Neil smiled again.

Allison and Renee got back in the car behind and they drove to Windemere, where they had booked out all the rooms in a little bed and breakfast. The man at the desk was the most English person Neil had ever met. He was the embodiment of every single English stereotype, and Neil couldn’t get away fast enough.

Their rooms were all on the second floor, Dan and Matt disappeared into one room, Allison and Renee into another, Aaron claimed his own room, as did Kevin and Nicky. Nicky was already face timing with Eric before his bedroom door closed. And despite Allison’s usual warning of ‘keep it down’, there were delighted giggles and moans coming from her and Renee’s room.

Neil shook his head, smiling, and followed after Andrew into their room. Andrew was already lighting up next to the window, so Neil dropped the bag by the bottom of the bed and slumped onto the mattress, stripping off his black armbands and dumping them over the edge. He heard Andrew shut the window and the bed dip as he settled nearby. Neil reached a hand up, and Andrew’s fingertips trailed over his bare arms, dipping over every scar and mark.

Neil closed his eyes, even now, years later, most touches on those scars brought back the car lighter, the knife, his father’s axe…

But then Andrew’s lips began tracing every raised bump, slowly washing away the memories one by one, until there was nothing left but the two of them, Andrew’s hands under Neil’s shirt, Andrew’s lips pressed hard to Neil’s, and Neil’s fingers tight in Andrew’s hair.

He didn’t realise how much he needed it until Andrew tugged his t-shirt over his head and slowly but steadily began taking him apart. Neil couldn’t stop the moan that Andrew dragged from deep in his throat as Andrew pushed him harder and faster until Neil’s breathing became ragged and Andrew leaned up to press their lips together as though he could swallow Neil’s hard groans when he fell over the edge. He lay limp and sweating, breathing hard, with Andrew beside him, the man’s expression open and soft in a way he had only seen four times so far.

Neil reached out, “Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t reply, just pressed his cheek into Neil’s palm and closed his eyes as Neil’s fingers played with the tiny hairs at the nape of Andrew’s neck. He wanted to say something, anything to remind Andrew just how amazing he was – how he always knew what Neil needed, usually before Neil knew himself, how even though Neil had long since learned to stand alone, it felt safe knowing that Andrew was there for him if he needed to lean on someone. But he didn’t have the words.

And he didn’t find them fast enough before Nicky pounded on the bedroom door.

“Come on, lovebirds, Allison ruined her hair to get this gingerbread, and Aaron and I went out for alcohol, come and have a drink and a snack like the old days. But put clothes on first!”

Andrew growled under his breath, but Neil smiled.

“When will he leave me alone?” Andrew said, shaking out his hand and pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He’s been in Germany with Eric for ten months. He can’t leave you any more alone.”

Andrew just stood and stared down at him a moment. “Come on junkie. Let’s go.”

Neil stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up, before he joined Andrew at the now open door to the bedroom, stood in front of a very irate Kevin.

“We have a game tomorrow. Tomorrow. And they want us to drink and eat and party. Why did they come at all, they’re not playing,” Kevin said, face set; cold and hard.

“Tomorrow will be fine. We’ll win or we’ll lose, but it’ll be fine. Let’s go, it could be fun,” Neil said, shrugging. He’d never felt as safe as he was in that moment and he’d never seen Andrew as relaxed – that was all he needed. All he wanted.

They should take road trips more often.

“Three hundred and seventy-four percent,” Andrew murmured.

Neil didn’t bother to stop the smirk on his face.

----

That’s it! Again, I hope you liked it and I hope it was a good enough gift for you in the exchange! Have a wonderful day!

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Because your home is now your workplace, gym, coffee shop, and primary care facility, you’ll need to keep it in good working order.

Under normal circumstances, “honey-do” lists and “weekend warrior” projects often get pushed aside by the daily grind. But in this bizarre new pandemic reality, that grind has ground to a halt. If there’s an upside, it’s that you have both time and incentive to knock out some of those around-the-house chores you may have put off. We spoke to a project manager and lead carpenter with a home remodeling business to find out what projects anyone can do to keep their homes in tip-top shape. And don’t worry if DYI isn’t your thing. Not only are these 11 tips easy for most anyone, but we even included a simple list of beginner tools to help build an essential toolkit you can be proud of. 11 Easy & Essential Home Maintenance Projects We spoke with John Wagner, a partner and project manager at the Twin Cities-based Waxwing Woodworking Inc. He identified 11 projects every homeowner should do to keep their house running efficiently and safely. And if you’re a renter, you can still check these things and let your landlord know. And while Wagner said you could easily get all these done during these social distancing mandates — some take as little as 30 seconds — at the very least, you could use this time to check all the items and make a plan for the next couple months. 1. Change your home air filter Filters should be changed monthly, and you should always have a spare one on hand. If you don’t, check the filter size and head on down to your friendly neighborhood filter (hardware/home improvement) store and pick up a bulk pack. Unless you have acute sensitivities to specific particulates, a filter with a “MERV” rating of 5 to 8 will be fine. A higher MERV rating will trap finer particles, but at some cost to the efficiency of your furnace. If you’re not sure what filter to use with your system, check the service manual or give a local heating contractor a call. Once you have the new filter, remove the old one and replace it, taking care to orient the filter for the direction of airflow. If you don’t have the size of the filter and direction of airflow written on your filter cover, now’s a good time to bust out the marker and get that done. 2. Clean gutters, check downspouts Take a walk around the perimeter of your house and check your gutters and downspouts. If you didn’t clean your gutters after the leaves fell last year, get to work. But don’t just leave that crap on the ground! (More on that later.) Downspouts should extend a minimum of 5 feet from the foundation to keep water from working its way into your basement. If you have a finished basement, a nice, long downspout could wind up saving you a ton of money. Most basement moisture problems arise from bulk water intrusion caused by bad slope and drainage. If your soil doesn’t slope away from your house (6 inches over 10 feet), that’s a major issue to address. Quick note: If you live in a cold climate, you should have a dehumidifier running from spring through fall (especially if you have a finished basement). 3. Prep garden, remove yard matter near your house Once you’ve thrown all your gutter goo onto the ground, pick it up. Rake up the old, decaying stuff from around the house so that soil isn’t building up against the house. If you put mulch around the house, it’s good to maintain 6 inches of clearance below the siding, especially if your siding material is a wood or wood composite. Personally, I like a 12- to 18-inch bed of crushed rock or gravel between the foundation and plants. That buffer will help prevent moisture and pests from working into the house. Plus, this is also a great time to plan for your vegetable garden. If the soil has thawed enough where you are, mix in some compost, and you’ll be ready to plant when the weather allows. Finally, now’s a great time for tree trimming. If you’re up to it and can do it safely, trim away dead or decaying branches and manage the growth of fruit trees. The University of Minnesota Extension has excellent resources for managing trees and gardening. 4. Clean air-conditioning coils First, you’ll want to clear away any plant growth around the condenser. Hook up your hose and decide how clean you want the condenser. You can either take the cover off (be sure to flip the breaker off inside) and clean from the inside out, or you can spray from the outside with the cover still on. Either way, spray at a downward angle until clean. If you’ve removed the cover to clean, you should be really proud of yourself — unless you damage the thin aluminum fins by folding them over. 5. Vacuum refrigerator coils Carefully walk out your refrigerator and start suckin’! Pull off the cover on the front that overlaps the wheels and vacuum that out. At the back of the fridge, vacuum the coils and motor. (No need to look behind the fridge, there’s definitely nothing there. Nope.) Just slide the fridge back. Be sure the fridge has an inch or so of clearance above it to allow warm air to escape. 6. Check siding for holes or other entrances for vermin, seal them If you had any winter guests this year, now’s a good time to check around the house to see how they got in. Start by following #3 above. Then, check for holes in the siding, gaps below the last course of siding (could be loose bricks or cracked stucco), or gaps that might have formed in your soffits. You can fix most means of ingress with better landscaping, steel wool, a good-quality caulk, or spray foam. Now, if you had squirrels or raccoons get into your attic through holes in your soffit or fascia, you might want to call a contractor. 7. Summerize snowblower, prep lawnmower for season If you’re not expecting more snow, get your snowblower ready to hibernate. Remove the fuel that’s in it and empty the fuel into a safe storage container (you can dump the fuel from the snowblower into your gas can). Don’t be a jerk neighbor and run your snowblower for 2 hours to burn off the fuel. Also, get some fuel stabilizer and pour that into your gas can before filling it up with gas. Next, clean up your snowblower. Lubricate any parts that move, pull the spark plug, and get a bit of oil worked through the motor by pulling the cord a couple of times. You might as well check to see if your augur blade is worn down or damaged; the same goes for the scraper blade. As for the lawnmower, if it ran well the year before, you should be able to fuel it up and get it going. If not, it’s generally a simple procedure to pull and clean the carburetor, replace the spark plug, and complete an oil change. Now, if you’re feeling frisky, you can check and sharpen the mower blade. Disconnect the spark plug, flip the mower, and remove the blade (you’ll need a wrench). Clamp the blade in a vise or clamp it to a sturdy table. With an angle grinder and a sanding pad, give the blade a few passes at a 30-degree angle. If you’re left with a rough burr on the back side of the edge, knock it off with a few passes of a file. If you don’t have an angle grinder, you can use a sharpening stone or a file, but it takes much longer. 8. Check washing machine filter, clean dryer vent This one is pretty straightforward. First, check your washer’s manual on how to clean the filter. It will probably say something smug, like, “Clean this filter monthly.” But there’s another inlet filter that’s also super easy to clean. Turn off the water supply, disconnect the hose, and remove any particulates. This is an especially important task if you have older, galvanized supply lines in your home. Cleaning the dryer vent is super important, too. First of all, your vent should be a rigid pipe, and the joints should be lapped so that lint isn’t accumulating at the edges. Disconnect the pipe from the dryer (just pull, and you might have to cut some tape) and check the vent on the dryer. Clear or dirty? Any toys in there? Next, take a look into the pipe. Slide a vacuum hose up there with a brush attachment. Now, head outside to the dryer’s exhaust port. On the outside of the house, check to see if the damper closes smoothly or if lint has accumulated there and was letting freezing-cold air into your house all winter. Clean it. Reattach the pipe and re-tape those joints with a quality foil tape. If you have a flexible vent pipe, switch to a rigid pipe. Rigid pipe will vent more efficiently, trap less lint, and is overall safer. 9. Check carbon monoxide and smoke detectors Test ‘em all! Change the batteries. If any of the units are old, replace them. Many new units come with sealed batteries and are good for 10 years. You should have a minimum of one smoke and one carbon monoxide (CO) detector on each floor, a smoke detector inside and outside of each bedroom, and a CO detector within 10 feet of each bedroom and sleeping area. 10. Upgrade your thermostat Get and install a smart thermostat. Personally, I like the ecobee. Chances are that your energy provider offers some kind of rebate, which will offset some of the initial cost. It proved super easy to install in my home, even though I didn’t have a C-wire. The savings started immediately, the unit is super intuitive and functional, it looks nice, and the sensors prioritize heating and cooling occupied spaces. Why do it? Because a super-easy way to save money and energy, as well as limit emissions, is to not be such an energy hog. Sign up for off-peak energy and adjust your thermostat settings so that your house is 65 degrees in the winter and 76 degrees in the summer. Some people may require different temps for health reasons, but your house doesn’t have to be 70 degrees all year ’round. 11. Check water heater The more adventurous among you may want to try a little water heater maintenance. Three things to do here: Check the pressure relief valve, check/replace the sacrificial anode, and flush the water heater. Testing the pressure relief valve will get a bit of scalding-hot water on the floor. So wear sturdy shoes. This one is better to watch — I recommend the trove of good info on the This Old House channel on YouTube. This is really a show, don’t tell fix. Check out some of the channel’s videos below. Temperature and pressure relief valve: Sacrificial anode: Flush water heater: Bonus: Start a home savings account The best way to save money is to actively save money. So if you have the luxury right now, you could start a savings account for your home. A good rule of thumb is to save 1.5-2% of your home’s value every year. If some of the systems in the house aren’t in great shape or are older, save a little more. For some perspective, a full replacement of a forced-air furnace and AC condenser can easily run up to $10,000 or more. Basic Toolkit for Home Maintenance To tackle most home improvement projects, you’ll need some rudimentary tools. Here’s a list of tools you should have on hand to tackle common DIY tasks: Home DIY Toolkit Hammer Phillips, flathead, or interchangeable-head screwdrivers Electric drill with bit kit and driver bits Tape measure Utility knife Pliers Adjustable wrench Small handsaw Voltage detector Wire nuts Wire cutters Safety glasses and ear protection Level (32″) Electrical, Teflon, duct, and painter’s tape Allen keys Small socket set Small pry bar Rags Pencils, sharpies The post 11 Simple Home Projects to Bang Out During Quarantine appeared first on GearJunkie. #Coronavirus #Lifestyle

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/because-your-home-is-now-your-workplace-gym-coffee-shop-and-primary-care-facility-you-ll-need-to-keep-it-in-good-working-order-1

[fraddit]

Original Fiction - 1545 words

Well, since that’s how it works in a writing class, I had to write some more.  Per usual, I pulled this out of my ass last night just in time for the midnight deadline and gave it a vague editing pass.  Figured I’d post it here.  If you decide to read it, I apologize in advance for how boring and terrible it is.  Oh, also, it’s near future science fiction.  And it’s just a scene, so it cuts off with no resolution.  Enjoy!  

Was the light flickering?  Slouched in her desk chair, Hannah spun round just far enough to get a look.  One of the fluorescent lights toward the back of the room was starting to die.  Freaking great.  She’d have to waste time putting in a request, and then who knew how long she’d have to put up with the flickering after that.  Backend maintenance like that was low priority to the higher ups.  She could envision the response email without effort: Company resources are allocated toward customer facing needs first.  Your request will be addressed as soon as possible.

The light started to buzz.  Freaking great.

Her console chimed.

           With a sigh, she spun herself back toward the monitors using as few muscles in her foot as possible.  Looked like another one of the transport chambers had malfunctioned.  She sat up and grabbed the controls to investigate.  The logs indicated an error with transport chamber MH3.9.

           “Okay, MH3.9, what seems to be the problem?” she muttered quietly to the confines of her cubicle.

           Pulling up the data for the chamber showed an issue with the printing on arrival.  With a few clicks, she opened the feed for the chamber’s camera.  The screen showed a fleshy, writing mass collapsed on the chamber floor.  

“Ugh!  Ew.  Definitely a printer malfunction.”  She grimaced and minimized the video feed, toggled MH3.9’s systems over to manual control, and put her headset on.

She pulled up the departure feed.  A man in a suit stood in the chamber looking impatient.  Hannah hit the switch on her microphone and opened the com.  “Excuse me, Sir?  We are having some technical difficulties with the chamber, but you should be on your way momentarily.”

“I should hope so!” he yelled back.  “The whole point of these stupid things is efficiency!  How long is this going to take?”

“Should be just a few minutes, Sir.”

“Good.  I’ve got tickets to a show in Singapore that –”

Hannah muted the com link and minimized the video feed.  “Friggin’ jerk.”  

Jumping back to the arrival chamber controls, she initialized the cleanup procedures.  The video feed shut off automatically as the chamber prepared itself for its incineration protocol, and a display popped up with the chamber’s stats.  Current interior temperature read 553 degrees Fahrenheit.  It would take another two minutes to reach 2000.

Pulling up the video for Business Suit Guy again, she saw he was still talking and unmuted the com, “—aking so long?!”

“Apologies, Sir.  We’re working as fast as we can.  Just a few more minutes.  We thank you for your patience.”

She muted him again.

Propping her elbows on the desk, Hannah dropped her face into her hands and rubbed her eyes and sighed.  “I need more coffee…”

The console chimed again, and an alert told her that the incineration was complete.  She initialized the cooldown process and reopened the com, “Sir, we’re ready to restart the process.  If you’d be so kind as to resume the transport position and stand very still, we should have you in Singapore very soon.”

“It’s about time!” he yelled back, but she could see him readying himself, standing with his feet on the designated markers and staring straight ahead for the scanners to do their work.

It wasn’t strictly necessary to rescan him, but Hannah didn’t want to take any chances on attempt number two and have to deal with the guy all over again.  She watched with baited breath as the arrival printer moved through its sequence.  The chamber camera’s display showed a frenzy of sleek metal arms spinning to life on the other side of the world, extruding organic matter according to the precise instructions of the departure scans. Layer by layer, bone, muscle, skin, clothing, even exact matches for the delicate neurons in Suit Guy’s brain were being printed from a few proprietary soups of elemental matter.

A cheerful bing signaled the successful completion of the process, and just like that, there were two of him.  Hannah opened the com to the arrival chamber.  “All done, Sir.  How are you feeling?”

“Late,” he said with a huff.  “Can I finally get on with my day?”

“Yes, of course, Sir.  Thank you for your patience.  We hope to see you again soon.”

“Yeah, whatever.  I’ll be having a word with your headquarters.”

With a click, Hannah opened the door of the chamber for him, and he stomped away, out of view of the cameras.  “That’s one down…”  She toggled to the departure chamber where Suit Guy still stood, looking as irritated as ever and opened the com.  “Just one more moment, Sir.”

“Will I be getting to Singapore anytime today?” he yelled into the chamber surrounding him.

Hannah muted him, removed her headset, and took a deep breath.  They swore it was impossible for the chamber mics to operate while the incinerator was engaged, but she didn’t like to take any chances on the possibility of hearing something unpleasant.  Two more clicks cut the video feed and started the final incineration process.  She had to admit, with customers like Business Suit Guy, there was a small measure of satisfaction in pressing that button.

With a groan, Hannah hoisted herself out of her chair, grabbed her coffee mug, and headed to the breakroom for a refill.

She saw Greg was hovering over Tim’s desk, chatting away with a vacant smile on his vacant face, and made a quick decision to go the long way through the cubicles to avoid being pounced on about her unfinished B5X reports that were due tomorrow.  No thank you.

Thankfully, the sad, taupe hallway to the breakroom was empty. The breakroom however, was not. Jessica slammed the fridge shut with yelp when she heard Hannah come in.

“Oh, Hannah! It’s you,” she said.  Her eyes darted over Hannah’s shoulder to the hallway and then back to Hannah.  “H-how are you?”

“... Good?  Are you alright?”

“Of course!  Why wouldn’t I be?” Jessica’s eyes darted back out the breakroom door as she walked over toward Hannah and the coffee machine.  

Hannah shrugged and reached for the coffee pot, cringing at how light it was.  “Ugh, empty again,” she said, rolling her eyes toward Jessica in hopes of some coworkerly solidarity.  But the other woman seemed preoccupied with something and was staring off into space with her eyebrows pinched.  

With another shrug, Hannah began rinsing the coffee pot in the small sink next to the coffee maker and flung open the cabinet to grab one of the packets of generic brand medium roast the company provided.  She dumped the sodden filter filled with old grounds in the trash, prepared the machine, and hit go.  Joyful anticipation washed over her as she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, listening to the gurgle of the water dripping through the machine and breathing deep the first fragrant scents of coffee filling the room.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Jessica asked quietly, her voice tight.

What the hell was this about?  Hannah opened her eyes and turned a little to face Jessica, “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Jessica glanced out the door again.  What the heck was she looking for?  “I think I may have found something.”

“Found something.  What do you mean?”

“Well… I was reviewing my B5X reports –”

Hannah sighed internally, still needed to do that.

“—and I found a line error.  So, I ran the report again, and got the same error again.”

Hannah didn’t see what the big deal was, but Jessica was always more of a perfectionist than she was.

“I wanted to double check it, so I asked Chad to pull me all the B5X data for the month.”

“Wait, for the whole system?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah.”

“Jesssica, how many times have I told you?  You need to stop making extra work for yourself.”

“Just listen, Hannah.  When I looked at the data systemwide, there were more weird inconsistencies.”  She glanced around the empty breakroom again.  “I… I think someone has been falsifying departure incineration records.” She said it so quietly that Hannah almost couldn’t hear her.

“What?” Hannah asked, blinking.  

The coffee pot beeped its completion.

“I think—”

“No, I heard you.  But do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“Believe me, Hannah, I know.  I ran it three more times just to be sure, but the only explanation for what I found is that someone isn’t finalizing departure incinerations but is logging it like they are.  I don’t know what it means.”  She looked like someone had just kicked several puppies in front of her.

Hannah stood in silence for several breaths, thinking, absorbing what Jessica had just told her.  If Jessica was right, there were duplicates of customers out wandering around. But that didn’t make any sense, they would have heard about that almost immediately.  Hell, if Business Suit Guy was any measure to go by, the copies would have been lighting up their customer support lines.  So, what was happening to them if they weren’t being destroyed in the chambers like they were supposed to?

“Jessica, can you show me what you found?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay.”  Hannah rubbed her hands over her face.  “But first I need more coffee.”

[y4s1-20192020]

A Mindful Society

A narrative approach was chosen for this phase by developing the critical argument around a story set 10 years in the future. In a hyper automated world where everything can be done almost instantaneously, technology is making us distracted and dull. Sometimes, we don’t even have to think anymore because everything can just run on automatic mode. Humans need to find ways to use external services to be more creative and focused and achieve internal equilibrium. To do things by hand, more mindfully and manually.

Eucalyptus, Lavender, Lemongrass

It was Wednesday again. As I fired up the engine of my DID, its screen flashed once. SCRTNW, it announced in a slightly tinny voice. I almost forgot -- the grand release of MCU’s SCRTNW was today.

Wednesday and Saturday evenings were Zen Launderette days. Sometimes it was physically tiring, especially after a long day of tutoring. But what really put me off was the socialising. Those rookies, they didn’t even know how to make the basic cold-process soap; all they knew was melt-and-pour soap. That isn’t even considered soap making! They were only here for screen time for their popular IGTV.  

“Now everyone, I’m gonna add some lavender oil to the mixture!”

“Wait, retake that, my hair was messy!”

Oh, how fake. Zen Launderette was about the sensuality of doing laundry. How could you convey those through a screen? The fragrance of the essential oils, the warmth of the clothes being set dry, the slipperiness of the soap against the roughness of a cotton towel.

I’d joined Zen Launderette on impulse, unlike those girls. On the weekend of my thirtieth birthday, I decided I would do something I had never done in my twenties before. Something different. Something radically different. Zen Launderette was a forty-minute drive from my apartment; a little nondescript shophouse with a sign that said Zen Launderette: The Mindful One. Below it, was a thumbnail-sized QR code to their Facebook page. I had seen the place on one of my aimless walks around the other side of town. It looked curious, but I never bothered to check it out. 

On Wednesdays after work, I would grab a quick bite at SFG and head to Zen Launderette right after. SFG was the king of flash-grilled patties. Tasty in a jiffy. My order at SFG was always the same: a chicken patty rice-burger with tomatoes and pickles. It was automatic; I never made any decisions for these kinds of things.

It has been nearly ten months now; my subscription was due for renewal in slightly over two months. I wasn’t sure if I should renew the subscription. The subscription fee was hefty, and my pass only allowed me to go twice a week on Wednesdays and Saturdays.  But why do I bother myself with manual laundry? I wondered sometimes. All the other household chores were automated anyway. There was no need to sweep, mop or vacuum the floor; there was ZB for that. There was no need to wipe any windows, tables or surfaces; there was GB for that. Pre-Zen Launderette, there was no need to hang, fold or iron my laundry; there was LB for that.

Hmm...the swiftness of LB seemed appealing. It would give my arms a little break tonight. Override route. Take me home instead. I instructed my DID.

ROUTE

CONFIRMATION

REQUIRED

flashed onscreen. Shang Chi’s somersault was rudely interrupted in mid-air.

 ------------------

 I took out LB from beneath the kitchen sink and gave the button on the front a little push. The lever holding the lid sprung up, scattering grey dust upwards and into my nostrils. I stuffed two pairs of jeans, two shirts and three sets of underwear into LB. That was about all it could take. After some rummaging in the bottom drawer, I found the last packet of liquid detergent. It was the kind that came in a dozen, each one a clear polyethylene terephthalate cup in which you could see the liquid sloshing around inside. It reminded me of the instant soup stock packets that mom used whenever she needed soup base. I never used those myself – I had enough of those growing up.

4:22

4:21

4:20

My LB was v.1.3. Quite a granny by today’s standards. The latest was v.5.1, released just last week. MAGIC LAUNDRY IN THREE MINUTES AND THREE SECONDS! The ad was plastered all over YouTube, Spotify and Instagram.

0:02

0:01

0:00

I’d almost forgotten what LB clothes smelled like. It had the instant smell, one of musty warm rubber faintly masked by generic laundry detergent. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it was nothing like the soothing smells of a fresh batch of laundry from Zen Launderette I was accustomed to. 

Oh, the eucalyptus bar I made four weeks ago would be fully cured today! It would be good for the upcoming flu season.

Oh no, Martha! I was supposed to help Martha with the aloe vera detergent liquid this week. Aloe vera was my speciality – no one could make as smooth a gel as I could. And my detergent liquid had a little sparkly sheen to it! Martha’s daughter in law would be expecting in a month and the aloe soap was meant for washing the baby’s blankets.

Ahhh eucalyptus, lavender, aloe vera, lemongrass. 

No, actually the LB smell was sickening in comparison. Somehow the laundry didn’t feel as clean. Certainly it was laundered, but it didn’t feel fresh. I couldn’t envision the joy in putting on these clothes in the morning.

 ------------------

 With the laundry done early, I had time for a couple of rounds of GOTL while binge-watching the entire season 7 of DW. I had 67 tabs open on my 42-inch, touch-wave split screen monitor and another three channels on in my head:

One more corndog left. I’ll need to drop in at Tesco to stock up on corndogs on my way home from work tomorrow.

I’ll have to wear LB smelling clothes for the next three days. Ughhhhhh.

Should I get a scarf or an AV for Jeannie’s birthday?

No, no, don’t fire you twit! It was no use anymore, that had been our last round of ammunition and we were effectively dead. I threw my hands down in frustration. The little brown patch on my left pinkie brushed against the edge of the side table. I got that scar just a week into my second month at Zen Launderette – I had been talking to Martha while stirring the lye water and the mixture splashed over the edges of the bowl . The spot was no longer painful, but the skin was still tender. I thought of the soothing cool aloe gel against the scar. Now that the game was over, I only had 66 tabs left. I looked around the room searching for something.

Zen Launderette was a forty minute drive from here. It was a little insane, I know. But if I could speed over there in twenty-five, I would still have time for two pairs of jeans, two shirts and three sets of underwear. And maybe an extra towel? It wasn’t a full load like I did on Wednesdays, but it was something nonetheless. I hesitated a little. A rare moment of indecisiveness.

Racing to my wardrobe, I grabbed the perfectly folded clothes without any plastic casing. These were the ones I had washed in LB. They were impeccably straight, with crisp fold-lines that lingered slightly when I first put them on. I used to flick the shirts a few times before putting them on in an attempt to get rid of the fold-lines. 

My favourite part of Zen Launderette was drying the clothes. They had a standalone washing machine, similar to the kind from the 1990s. When the washing machine gave a little beep, I would take out the clothes from each machine, and proceed to set the scents with a handheld dryer. Each piece of clothing needed a unique amount of heat, depending on the fabric and the scent used. The clothes had to be done in a particular order; as in wine-tasting. With the clothes that I laundered at Zen Launderette, I always made sure to place them in individual plastic cases to prevent their scents from being transferred to each other. Not for LB clothes though, they didn’t need the casing. 

In my left hand, I grabbed a stack of empty plastic cases and clambered down the stairs into the basement carpark. Just another one of those days the lift was faulty. As I gave the fuel indicator a quick glance, I steered off into the darkness of the cool night, leaving a single parking lot vacant. 

 Glossary

AV Amazon Voucher

DID Daimler Intelligent Drive

DW Doctor Who

GB Glide Bot

GOTL  Game of the Legends

LB  Laundrobot

SCRTNW  Shang-Chi: Return to New World

SFG Shacky’s Flash Grill

ZB Zipbot

[kristablogs]

Four tips to make sure your dishwasher does its job

We thought we'd show you things from the dishes' point of view. (Wendelin Jacober/Pexels/)

Loading the dishwasher is a remarkably controversial activity. After five years of marriage, my wife and I still debate the proper method for getting dishes clean with minimal hassle. So I spoke to an expert to settle our battle once and for all.

“It’s a contentious issue in most households,” says Richard Tarrant, who’s in charge of marketing Bosch���s dish care products. “We do a lot of consumer studies to gain insights, and 61 percent of Americans actually argue over whether the dishes should be pre-rinsed. It’s incredible.” And while every dishwasher has its own idiosyncrasies—especially if you’re using an older one—he has a few tips to help make sure things get clean.

Don’t rinse dishes before putting them in the dishwasher

Let’s talk about that hotly-debated issue: pre-rinsing. Bosch’s research suggests not rinsing your dishes before they enter the dishwasher, Tarrant says, explaining that modern detergent is designed to cling to leftover food in order to clean effectively. Now, that doesn’t mean you should toss your plate in the dishwasher with a half-eaten sandwich on it—unless you want a mushy catastrophe. Instead, he says, scrape big items off your plate—into either the trash or garbage disposal (a debate all its own)—and put the dish in without rinsing it. This will not only get your dishes clean, but keep them in good condition. If there’s no food to cling to, the detergent may end up damaging your dishware over time, etching little scratches and pits into the surface, he says.

There are exceptions to this, of course. Tarrant notes that while Bosch tests with stubborn foods like eggs and oatmeal in order to account for them in their product design, sometimes dishwashers just can’t do the job perfectly on the first go-round. “If you have a casserole dish which has very burned-on food residue, it probably makes sense to soak that a little bit before you put it in your dishwasher,” he says. Your mileage on this may vary, too—if you find your dishwasher isn’t up to snuff with certain foods (avocado was the enemy of our old dishwasher), take note and clean those items by hand. But if you rinse everything before putting it in the machine, you’ll just end up wasting water—up to 27 gallons per load, according to Tarrant, versus the three to six gallons a typical Energy Star-rated dishwasher uses.

Mix up the direction of the silverware

In my household, our biggest disagreement debate concerns silverware, specifically whether it should face up or down in the basket. My wife thinks everything needs to face up so the water has a better chance at cleaning off the food; I think facing down is just as effective while being less inconvenient when loading. I load the silverware her way in hopes it will gain me husband points, but I still grit my teeth every time I try to drop a dirty spoon in handle-down without getting peanut butter on my hands.

In a way, we’re both right (and both wrong), Tarrant says: “You don’t want your spoons to nest together, or your forks to nest into spoons. So mix it up to make sure the water can get in and make sure all that food comes off correctly.” In other words, if your spoons are spooning, food will get trapped between them, and they won’t get clean—so spread them out in the basket, and flip some of them upside down if you need to. (He does note that knives should probably point down for safety reasons, and if you have delicate knives that can’t handle this, just hand-wash them.) The same goes for bowls and other similarly shaped items—if you’ve overloaded the dishwasher so much that they’re nesting, they won’t get clean.

Use the right cycle for the job

I almost never pay attention to which dishwasher cycle I’m using. I assumed soap and water was soap and water, so why use anything other than a “quick” cycle if things looked clean? The quick cycle may be fine if you’re pre-rinsing your dishes, but—as we’ve already noted—that wastes more water and time than if you’d just let the dishwasher do the work for you.

“The shorter cycle is designed for either a light soil or maybe freshly soiled dishes,” explains Tarrant. “Maybe you have tableware that you purchased recently, and you just want to get it washed that first time. Or maybe you and your partner sit down to have dinner and just want those dishes clean.” For normal loads, you should probably use—you guessed it—the normal cycle.

That is, of course, unless your newfangled dishwasher has an automatic cycle. “We would say the auto cycle is designed for an everyday mixed load. That’s where the intelligence of the machine comes in: it measures the soil level, it detects anything that’s still in there, and it adjusts the cycle based on that.” Provided your dishwasher has the smarts to run an auto cycle effectively, you can probably use it for the majority of loads, barring special scenarios like pots and pans or baby bottles that need the sanitary cycle.

Clean your dishwasher’s food trap, for heaven’s sake

I’m embarrassed to say I went years without realizing that my dishwasher might require its own cleaning and maintenance. There’s one thing, in particular, that Tarrant says a lot of people gloss over: the food trap.

It’s in the base of the dishwasher, and it’s kind of icky, so people don’t like to take it out and mess with it, he says. But, you should clean it out every three to six months depending on how frequently you run the dishwasher.

If you aren’t sure where it is, check your dishwasher’s manual—it may not be as exciting as the next episode The Legend of Korra, but there’s a lot of useful info in there on keeping your dishes clean. Once you locate the food trap, check YouTube and your favorite search engine for tips on removing it. Dishwashers are relatively simple machines, but the mechanisms may be held together by plastic clips that break easily, so I don’t recommend you dive in and start pulling things apart if you’re unfamiliar with how everything fits together.

A word of caution: If anything has ever broken in your dishwasher, there may be pieces of glass around the drain, so be careful. When you’ve got the food trap out, run it under some water with a soft brush and a bit of soap, and your dishes will stay sparkly clean.

[scootoaster]

Four tips to make sure your dishwasher does its job

We thought we'd show you things from the dishes' point of view. (Wendelin Jacober/Pexels/)

Loading the dishwasher is a remarkably controversial activity. After five years of marriage, my wife and I still debate the proper method for getting dishes clean with minimal hassle. So I spoke to an expert to settle our battle once and for all.

“It’s a contentious issue in most households,” says Richard Tarrant, who’s in charge of marketing Bosch’s dish care products. “We do a lot of consumer studies to gain insights, and 61 percent of Americans actually argue over whether the dishes should be pre-rinsed. It’s incredible.” And while every dishwasher has its own idiosyncrasies—especially if you’re using an older one—he has a few tips to help make sure things get clean.

Don’t rinse dishes before putting them in the dishwasher

Let’s talk about that hotly-debated issue: pre-rinsing. Bosch’s research suggests not rinsing your dishes before they enter the dishwasher, Tarrant says, explaining that modern detergent is designed to cling to leftover food in order to clean effectively. Now, that doesn’t mean you should toss your plate in the dishwasher with a half-eaten sandwich on it—unless you want a mushy catastrophe. Instead, he says, scrape big items off your plate—into either the trash or garbage disposal (a debate all its own)—and put the dish in without rinsing it. This will not only get your dishes clean, but keep them in good condition. If there’s no food to cling to, the detergent may end up damaging your dishware over time, etching little scratches and pits into the surface, he says.

There are exceptions to this, of course. Tarrant notes that while Bosch tests with stubborn foods like eggs and oatmeal in order to account for them in their product design, sometimes dishwashers just can’t do the job perfectly on the first go-round. “If you have a casserole dish which has very burned-on food residue, it probably makes sense to soak that a little bit before you put it in your dishwasher,” he says. Your mileage on this may vary, too—if you find your dishwasher isn’t up to snuff with certain foods (avocado was the enemy of our old dishwasher), take note and clean those items by hand. But if you rinse everything before putting it in the machine, you’ll just end up wasting water—up to 27 gallons per load, according to Tarrant, versus the three to six gallons a typical Energy Star-rated dishwasher uses.

Mix up the direction of the silverware

In my household, our biggest disagreement debate concerns silverware, specifically whether it should face up or down in the basket. My wife thinks everything needs to face up so the water has a better chance at cleaning off the food; I think facing down is just as effective while being less inconvenient when loading. I load the silverware her way in hopes it will gain me husband points, but I still grit my teeth every time I try to drop a dirty spoon in handle-down without getting peanut butter on my hands.

In a way, we’re both right (and both wrong), Tarrant says: “You don’t want your spoons to nest together, or your forks to nest into spoons. So mix it up to make sure the water can get in and make sure all that food comes off correctly.” In other words, if your spoons are spooning, food will get trapped between them, and they won’t get clean—so spread them out in the basket, and flip some of them upside down if you need to. (He does note that knives should probably point down for safety reasons, and if you have delicate knives that can’t handle this, just hand-wash them.) The same goes for bowls and other similarly shaped items—if you’ve overloaded the dishwasher so much that they’re nesting, they won’t get clean.

Use the right cycle for the job

I almost never pay attention to which dishwasher cycle I’m using. I assumed soap and water was soap and water, so why use anything other than a “quick” cycle if things looked clean? The quick cycle may be fine if you’re pre-rinsing your dishes, but—as we’ve already noted—that wastes more water and time than if you’d just let the dishwasher do the work for you.

“The shorter cycle is designed for either a light soil or maybe freshly soiled dishes,” explains Tarrant. “Maybe you have tableware that you purchased recently, and you just want to get it washed that first time. Or maybe you and your partner sit down to have dinner and just want those dishes clean.” For normal loads, you should probably use—you guessed it—the normal cycle.

That is, of course, unless your newfangled dishwasher has an automatic cycle. “We would say the auto cycle is designed for an everyday mixed load. That’s where the intelligence of the machine comes in: it measures the soil level, it detects anything that’s still in there, and it adjusts the cycle based on that.” Provided your dishwasher has the smarts to run an auto cycle effectively, you can probably use it for the majority of loads, barring special scenarios like pots and pans or baby bottles that need the sanitary cycle.

Clean your dishwasher’s food trap, for heaven’s sake

I’m embarrassed to say I went years without realizing that my dishwasher might require its own cleaning and maintenance. There’s one thing, in particular, that Tarrant says a lot of people gloss over: the food trap.

It’s in the base of the dishwasher, and it’s kind of icky, so people don’t like to take it out and mess with it, he says. But, you should clean it out every three to six months depending on how frequently you run the dishwasher.

If you aren’t sure where it is, check your dishwasher’s manual—it may not be as exciting as the next episode The Legend of Korra, but there’s a lot of useful info in there on keeping your dishes clean. Once you locate the food trap, check YouTube and your favorite search engine for tips on removing it. Dishwashers are relatively simple machines, but the mechanisms may be held together by plastic clips that break easily, so I don’t recommend you dive in and start pulling things apart if you’re unfamiliar with how everything fits together.

A word of caution: If anything has ever broken in your dishwasher, there may be pieces of glass around the drain, so be careful. When you’ve got the food trap out, run it under some water with a soft brush and a bit of soap, and your dishes will stay sparkly clean.

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

She’s about to do something stupid.

anyway... who’s back with almost 5k words worth of garbage? MEEE

I was too lazy to rebrand the frenchness of french toast. Not even Snooj is French, goddammit, and I can't think of anywhere else off the top of my head. Next time, (as in, 3 chapters' time I see) I'm just renaming any country that has no counterpart lmao

I’m not happy with this one ngl... the funky flow is not in there as I had to weld 2 chapters together so I will end closer to 40 overall. Hereby I also declare that I shall attempt a biweekly schedule with this trash so I can end it on the date the story ends (plus-minus appendix and shit). Smell you alter, readers.

Kat is preoccupied with the new idea as she's doing a really quick rabbit shadow show while near invisible, which, as expected, Carrot is all over about. (She tells something about Wano and shadow theatre, but never having seen this…?)

However, she forgets about it as soon as Usopp replaces her after the lukewarm performance to do some actual skilled shadowplay for the mink to enjoy. The distortion part also gets cancelled after the initial tricks, as it would be hard for the eager girl to learn some of this otherwise.

It's the mild pain in her face from laughing and smiling a little too much at the sniper's excessively dumb commentary that reminds Kat of time being up, and she makes another run for it.

"Well… I was already giving up on you getting back within a few minutes," Law sighs in resignation and mild relief as she opens the door with care only she bothers with. Taking a look back at her, his brows pull closer together. "… is… there something up with your face?" She doesn't seem to be especially bothered, but… it could be that. Or a splitting headache, if she's not drinking enough. She has just had coffee, but what and how much did she have before that?

"Usopp said a lot of funny hogwash and it made me laugh a lot…" Kat near complains with a groan, rubbing her cheeks. "Guess your grumpy face is not used to it." A sting or two is commonplace even in her own body, as she either has a plastic smile or empty stare on in public, but Law's face seems to be even more taken about the exercise.

… or, it could be that. After short consideration, Law lets himself relax again. "Wouldn't be too surprised, to be honest. Maintaining a poker face and the occasional smirk is not very taxing on those muscles." He stops again before getting back to his transplants book; "If you were to get legitimately sore… just fucking tell me, okay?" He could definitely see something like this trigger the other two problems.

"I knooow, I have it with my own actual face all the time from having too good of a goddamn time," she says, putting the last pats on the cheeks. It just… hurts, then maybe buzzes for a while. "I'm used to it."

"…" the quill stops over the notepad before he would continue the bullet points; he needs a second to interpret this reply. "… I kind of forgot you are not sunshine and rainbows all the time, to be honest." She started off as someone who was lowkey judging people from the sidelines in silence. If nothing else, catching a reaction or two on topics like Monkey D. Luffy was amusing enough.

It's been about a week since this initial impression had changed, but it feels like ages since Kat seemed like someone careful and distant, if not calculating and uncaring. Which… is funny, because she seeks out loopholes to have fun and also cares in her own way, even a little too much at that. Still, not counting that he saw her cracking up on her potential execution, or the suppressed smiles while watching the crews do something stupid, he did not see her laugh until a day after they've met. Following that, nothing until Friday, where she laughed a lot, and… well, there was Saturday evening.

Wednesday also marks the date when she had caught his attention. That smile of hers irked him from the get-go, even without knowing why.

"When I'm in my element, maybe… otherwise, I'm partly cloudy with a chance of rain," she mumbles, then notes that the teddy she has passed to him is sitting in the junk behind the now closed door. Seems like some stuff has also been moved. "… what did this bear do to deserve the timeout corner?" Was he trying to get the wardrobe open? Or is it the huge chest crammed into the literal corner with a lot of stuff still on- and in front of it? Well, it's really easy to find out either way.

"Wanted to put it away, but I guess I'll have to wait until I have my bod-" He hears some stuff hitting the bed, followed by a short scraping sound on wood and some hinges creaking, and he freezes with eyes wide and as pale as a ghost. She didn't just do what he thinks she did, did she?

"Oh my gosh," Kat squeals upon discovering the unquestionably high grade stuffed material in the levitating trove. "These are deliberately the most adorable things ever?" The poofy white teddy at the top smiling at her is made of tangible sunshine and rainbows. There's no way all of these are from the same person, there's too much variety… This crew has taste, alright. That shaggy blonde leg near a corner actually kind of looks like… "The soft stuff," she whispers in awe, grabbing it immediately.

"YOU," Law near-shouts, then lowers the volume to an aggressive whisper while tumbling out from his chair; "put those things away right now." Uni and Shachi are in the control room and could barge in any time, and by god, he cannot let them know that he's actually kept every. single. one of these. His occasionally mulled-over plan to just dump it all on the nearest kindergarten or clinic is suddenly top priority, because fucking Kat with her apparently zero self-restraint will unearth any embarrassing secret or cursed relic she can put her grabby hands on. Not to mention digging up traumatic memories she should have zero access to. And she has his body, his devil fruit… is there anything he has that is safe from this woman?!

"Okay, okay, I will," she slurs as he dumps backpack burglar bear in with the others and is reaching for the one in her hands; "but… "

"But what," he hisses as she lifts it out of reach, eyeing the door behind them while also listening for movement.

"Can I keep this one?" she squeaks, holding her new stuffed friend with the plaid bandana scarf close. He's been given so many and puts them all someplace nobody could find them, one more or less really won't matter, right? "Please?" … it kind of stinks, though. Nothing that a round or two in the washing machine cannot fix, though.

"…" He's had to deal with some weird requests in the past few months, but this… this is the one that takes the cake. "Why the hell do you want it?" he bursts out, struggling to keep his volume low. "Isn't there enough useless garbage in that dump house of yours already?!"

The chest sways in the air as shame washes over Kat's face; she can't get any sound through the lump in her throat for ten solid seconds. Once her color fades into the negatives and she would be able to say something, she has no words left in her.

Seeing her mood whiplash, Law gets to calm down and lets out a frustrated sigh. He's done it now, didn't he. Legitimately hurt her. It was only a question of time, but he expected to feel less of an ass over it. The accusation is unfair anyhow, since he also has a room full of obsolete shit and a huge treasure chest reserved for nothing but teddy bears that everyone thinks he's long gotten rid of.

"Whatever, take it if…" Kat reaches out with the plushie in hand… "… you, uh…" … and puts it back on top of the pile.

"Don't want it," she mumbles through her sore throat.

"It's… it doesn't matter, I'm full on these things. Won't be able to cram in any more, anyway." About two bigger ones, and he won't be able to shut the lid without squishing its inhabitants.

She shakes her head. "This memory… is no good."

"…" The memory? The random junk in the 'dump,' and all that knickknack she has littering the place that are on the decorative side of things are… stuff to remember things by? More specifically, reminders of pleasant things. Huh. Suppose… there is something to that.

He takes one more look at the bears inside, then shuts the chest. "I see." Both of them have some long overdue spring cleaning to do, and not only on the physical plane.

Kat then rearranges the mess into the same pile as she has found it; chest as the base, followed by tightly rolled-up posters to the sides to support the folders and books on them, another doctor's suitcase that's barely in one piece, a metal case between that and the wardrobe, and finally, the notebooks and whatever else… on top. All that's missing is the little shelf rack that was sitting in front.

Law can tell by a single glance at her body language that she's lost all motivation she might have had thus far. Great. Just… great. He made her plummet back to square one, if not zero. Can't help but keep digging your own damn grave, can you? Take a deep breath and do what you have to. "Kat-ya?"

She freezes up for a moment, then lets out a questioning hum.

Not even on talking terms, huh?

"As one hoarder to another… sorry."

After some delay, she sniffs.

"... don't you fucking start crying on me."

Long story short, she did start silent crying and the man had to manually insert a leftover cracker in her mouth like a punch card and had her drink the last cup's worth of tea to get her to calm down. She felt both empty and relieved, and also like a big baby in need of their favorite stuffed toy for the rest of the day. Law meanwhile likely felt like playing a very done surrogate dad, dealing with an insufferable kid on the way home. Shachi even tried to nickname him 'Mr Babysitter' once him and Uni had actually entered the place in the middle of it all, but this jab was quickly redirected as Law flat-out told him that taking care of a toddler was nothing new for someone running a daycare 24/7. That one earned an immature, wet faced chuckle from her.

She probably should have felt more embarrassed by the situation overall. However, she kind of enjoyed it, even? Which also ought to have earned much more shame on her part, but she just became really calm and tired for the rest of the day. Crying feels good, sometimes.

Also sometimes, she has to wonder whether coffee even works.

"Okay, touch-me-not… time to hit the hay," she can hear Law's voice phase in some time later before getting shooed from her button project and out of the room. "And tomorrow, try to act like a respectable adult, because as of now… it's hard to look at you as a grown-ass woman." It feels like he had to turn into an actual babysitter, if not a pet owner for the day. And holy shit, was it fucking exhausting. She might be on par with Luffy in this regard.

She just gives a tired, matter of fact 'okay' as an answer as she surveys the doorway with vacant eyes.

The flat response… is not something he's used to. Is she like this after letting some steam out, or…? "... are you actually registering the things I say?"

"Yes, I'm just… one with the universe," she nods.

Law squints at her, then shoves the woman personally out the door; her eyes are still a little red, and the weird (although not really out of character) answer would make him suspect her being high on weed, if not for the fact that it's a substance that can be found in one single container on his wannabe-estate, that is to say, in his room, and that one is locked shut ever since some not-so-mysterious vanishing acts. Even if she shoplifted him, he would fucking notice, sharing the goddamn space all day. "You talk and walk like a zombie, get the fuck out right now."

He watches her wobble up the staircase for a bit, then closes the door with a shaking head. This… was certainly a day.

A few comatose minutes later, Kat walks into the unlit room and falls into the cotton pile unceremoniously right after. Nice and cool… almost enough to beat some life into her. Almost. It gives just enough energy to stop suffocating by flipping over, and pull one of the things over her torso. After lying around in the empty room for a bit, she turns on her side and hugs the blanket tight. She's missing her hug pillow a lot right now. Wondering about how nice it would be to have that, or the huge, white bear over, or even just another layer so this place feels less hard, she falls asleep rather fast.

Then, in what feels like a minute later, she finds herself sweating bullets. There was another nightmare, which was easily the worst one as of yet; being shut into the chest with plushies, barely able to move, with noone to hear her voice... And the screams of people outside... and the guns, just... the never ending gunshots and screaming. She shudders just thinking about it… a dream like this would upset her even without context. After shedding a few tears, she also feels the pain slowly settle inside; she was just thinking what felt off about this dream… the absence of agonizing stabs and cramps is what it was. This time, it's creeping up her right thigh and her hips, setting them on fire in real time, then the already throbbing sternum turns into a knife in her chest. Any other vague throb around the stomach has nothing on these, they might as well not even exist. She peeks direction windows to see nothing but darkness; she can hear the soft breaths of the other three, so a considerable amount of time has passed, but it must be pretty early still... she's got the bad feeling that this pain will not go away until morning, and sleeping back in right now is just... unless she faints from this, there's no way she will.

There is indeed no more rest she can get; after the generally early bird Carrot leaves, she sits up to get at least that part done, then tries her best to get on her feet before the others start moving as the alarm sounds an hour later. Task is successfully mastered in time, although she has to lean on one of the chairs for a minute, because even while being more numb than in pain at the moment, her legs did not appreciate that.

" … bad day for sleep, huh?" Nami half-asks from her own daze once having taken a look at her.

"Nnnnhng," is all that Kat can manage for the time being. Getting tortured aside, she really hasn't slept a lot, even with the near immediate knockout in the evening. Her brain is on autopilot; nobody suspects that her hobbling and nearly running into walls has any other cause than the velcro eyelids, really. At least moving around seems to ease her suffering somewhat.

By the time she has to stand up from the dining table and make her way down, the temporal alleviation has worn off and she can barely manage the task without falling back onto the chair. This is worse than the two weeks of hell from spring when she managed to trap a nerve in her spine. There's also a numbness spreading on her right side, slowly creeping higher and higher as the soreness decides to look for a new target before moving on from her hips for good. She could cry, really... likely slept through the worst every time thus far. God… being Law sucks.

As soon as she enters his room, which looks somehow even messier than before, Law clicks his tongue beside the chest of drawers which is buried under new junk.

"If nothing else, you have impeccable timing whenever you are following the routine… good morning." Looking back at her slowly puzzling the scenery together, his face displays overt exasperation soon enough. "… I can already tell you will need full-time supervision today, so I'm skipping the briefing. I wanted to take matters into my own hands, anyway." Matters being… her focus, which seems to react well to spoon-fed attention judging by her episode yesterday. Whatever amount of that still exists in this walking corpse. This experimental endeavor might be ill-timed, but to hell with it all, he's already planned this out, and he's going to go through with it. He turns back to the piece of furniture to stack some of the junk they won't be needing today; "Move it while we're young, alright?"

She hums. Closing the door, her eyes linger on the chest in the corner. Turning back towards him, she stops for a moment; asking would be all kinds of rude, yet she can't help but wonder… how much of the dreams are actual things that happened. A lot of people she sees and meets certainly are… or were actual people.

Also… how does he handle days like these? Does he lock himself up in his room, or is he just lowkey clingy? Well… there's always Bepo to look for, minks are cuddly and he does get comfortable leaning on him and whatnot. Must be his go-to therapy. Would be nice to have access to that, since the polar bear really is as soft as it gets. Honestly… she really needs to hug the shit out of something decently squishy that won't ask follow-up questions right about now. Questions that are none of their business, at least.

"Zombie attack," she moans in a monotone voice, hobbling to his side with stiff thighs.

He mouths a 'wha' as the words click just as she goes in for the kill. "What the- Kat-ya, what now?" he asks in bafflement as soon as the initial surprise wears off. Also, these impulse hugs are only getting tighter, aren't they?

She gives him a little squeeze before release, but there's no answer.

Law raises a brow while staring at her blank, if not sad expression; a few seconds of consideration later he lets out a tired, knowing sigh. "Nightmare?"

The girl nods with a hum after some delay.

" … no tea and crackers if you haven't brought more, so that's that." Not sure what else he could start with, or do in general. He'd rather avoid the rest of yesterday's fiasco.

"I'm supposed to be a big girl now, so I won't ask for any," Kat pouts to that with overdone articulation as if reading his mind. "I might ask for some hugs, though," she adds stepping out of the role of a five-year-old with a sigh that sounds as painful as her liver area feels now. The heat is also getting to her today and she already is about to break out in sweat. Except she doesn't, which just makes her feel like implodig with nausea.

"…" He can't think of anything on the spot, but she could be asking worse. Hell… he's kind of getting used to it. "Eh, whatever, I'll bear a few if necessary," he shrugs at last. But: "Tell me beforehand and keep it to a minimum, though." She may not be able to disturb him during work today, but if he doesn't give restrictions, she might cling to him all the damn time. As upsetting those dreams may get at times, that's absolutely unnecessary.

She perks up; did he just… okay it? "Woah… really?"

"Yes, re-" Law deadpans as she gives him the frontal treatment right away. "-ally. Honestly, do you have to do this?" he sighs in limp resignation. He feels like becoming a comfort article… she might have been in need of that bear, after all.

"Absolutely," she says beaming as she straightens herself with some care as to not trigger some really unpleasant things. "you are big, warm and strong, so I can give soft, high quality hugs to everyone I like!" Being half a beefcake and heater feels nice~ Gotta accept that her body really is on the bony side after getting to hug herself a few times.

First of all: was that an indirect compliment? Second of all: there's a foreboding number of likely people she's already made close physical contact with… apart from being embarrassing and potential blackmail, his relatively weak immune system should not be put into situations all haphazardly like that. Hopefully she washes her hands regularly, if nothing else. And finally, she hugs people she likes, and the implied message of having received, like, five in the past two days already… all in all, every single aspect of that sentence gives Law something vaguely alarming to think about.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again as he cannot muster an answer. Well then… move on? "... aaanyway… you seem to have magically woken up, so here's the deal with today: I was thinking of some changes, that is to say, instead of ogling you from the sidelines, I will be actively present in your training schedule. Also, we'll be doing various mixed tasks for as long as you're… operable? How much sleep did you get?"

Kat finds this idea to her liking; can't do wrong when being instructed, and company makes for a less boring day. She lowkey needs some supervision and someone to tell her what to do all the time to be at maximum productivity, anyway. Getting interrupted too often has the total opposite effect, but…trying can't hurt. "Could have been five? I'm not sure. Anyhow, that… sounds nice, actually."

Luckily, after settling into the new system and the pain receding for a while, the morning is an overall blast. Partly since she's basically constructing a junk castle over and over, removing and inserting parts with as little leeway as possible. Also, despite her worries… Law would actually make a pretty good teacher? His explanations use more jargon than necessary, but they leave just enough up to imagination and he also lets her deviate from the task. He helps no more or less than what she needs, too. Who would have thought. She sneakily uses Scan to her benefit as well, since it aids at taking things out of other things. Funny how she's getting the hang of the reverse task faster… or so it would be, if time was not pressing her to succeed at both as fast as possible.

Getting up for the fifth time in a few minutes to adjust something towards noon serves as a quick reminder that she was getting too brave with moving around, because the stabbing pain returns as quickly as it was slow at fading out. This time she actually is covered in cold sweat all of a sudden and overcome by a sense of weakness as well. That won't be her blood sugar… but could be.

"Suddenly… I feel like I could eat a horse," Kat notes between gritting her teeth. Yeeeesh, some muscle is fucking cramping on her right side, holy fuck… It's fortunate that Law's to her back, because… Okay, okay, okay… it's receding, take a breath. "Kind of forgot getting more than the usual after the forced wake. I don't suppose you have one lying around? Some snacks would be nice until… lunch." And now blood pressure seems to be plummeting, too… ho, boy. Imagine how he would react if she just fainted right now. Not fun, not at all.

He sighs. "You should have more than just a cup of cocoa anyhow? Feed me proper, that body is used to labor and burns what it gets, goddammit." He does get up, however, and adjusts his pants quick. He needs a breather from this anyhow. "I’m also getting peckish, so I might as well get something. Lunch won’t be ready for an hour at least… you won’t want to eat rice balls, I suppose, so French toast or toast toast? Likely slightly burnt in either case. That's about all I'm capable of." Hopefully Fugu won't catch him red-handed… if he's lucky, the cook's already headed out for veggies and stuff.

… not eating at all was a lie, but she's suddenly reminded of how long it's been since she's had either. Or scrambled eggs. With pepper and paprika, and thinly sliced garlic… can't have him try and fuck that one up, though. "... give me your best shot at a French toast, two slices," she replies with a watery mouth.

"Just don't complain if you don't like it," he shrugs walking up to the exit. "Be right back."

Being alone for a moment, she groans in frustration. The pain is not only back, but just as bad as it was, like it just won't stop at all. It sneakily crawled up her neck in the past hour, making it stiff, and now it started eating the right side of her face from the inside out and she already knows this will end with a splitting headache. The goddamn left shoulder is also getting tense again, but that keeps happening so often she doesn't even notice any more unless it hurts.

Thinking about that, her eyes wander over to his desk- and then to the upper right shelf where he fished out a pill from the other day. After short consideration, she steps over to the furniture slowly and rests the tip of her finger on the handle. These are for him, right? What if she just…

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Why Every Stylish Wrist Deserves A Swiss Watch

http://fashion-trendin.com/why-every-stylish-wrist-deserves-a-swiss-watch/

Why Every Stylish Wrist Deserves A Swiss Watch

You’ve noticed the cheesy Patek Philippe ads, gazed at your boss’ Rolex during meetings, maybe even threatened to get your grandfather’s pocket watch repaired one day… and now you’ve saved a bit of cash, it’s time to bite the bullet and invest in your very own Swiss timepiece.

That last particular word is probably one of many reasons why it’s taken this long – do you really want to be the sort of man who calls his watch a ‘timepiece’? Or, even worse, a ‘chronometer’? It’s true, the watch world can be a rather snobby, anorak-clad institution, whose idiosyncrasies you might forgive if it wasn’t for the astronomical cost of joining this particular club. Even supercars manage to retain an everyman appeal (although, to be fair, there aren’t many teenagers’ bedroom walls pinned with Breitling posters).

The good news, if you’re seriously thinking about doing it, is that a decent Swiss watch is generally worth its price tag – crafted just as exactingly as a Ferrari, by artisans whose skills are generally limited to the valleys of the Swiss Jura mountains. But still, why wear one at all, when the precise time is displayed everywhere in our ‘always on’ digital age?

“There’s an element of status and style symbolism, for sure,” says ex-watchmaker and store manager Sandy Madhvani of David M Robinson jewellers, “much like that Porsche that rarely creeps over 20mph in town. But wearing any sort of watch, Swiss or not, is rarely about telling the time these days – instead, it is an investment into something sentimental and eternal…

“It’s no wonder more and more women are buying engagement watches for their new fiancés, in return for their ring.”

Greg E. Mathieson Sr./REX/Shutterstock

Madhvani’s notion of eternity isn’t so far-fetched. Just a little TLC will mean your mechanical wristwatch can tick forever – its timeworn technology is totally safe from obsolescence, unlike that shiny new smartwatch.

“With brands like Patek Philippe and Rolex,” he continues, “your watch could potentially accrue in value, even. In terms of mechanical objects, only a fully restored vintage Ferrari is capable of that. In terms of cost per wear, there’s simply no comparison – unless you can honestly name an item of clothing or pair of shoes that you’ve worn every day for years, which still looks and functions just as well?”

So Why Switzerland?

A mechanical movement is a beguiling thing to behold as well as listen to, ticking away at 28,800 vibrations per hour. Its hundred-odd tiny parts are all machined laboriously and precisely from steel or brass, polished to varying degrees of shimmer and shine, then hand-assembled by one of the world’s most skilled workforces in light-drenched mountaintop ateliers. A joyous anachronism in this digital world, with prices that can stretch to the equivalent of a three-bed Croydon semi (try Googling ‘Greubel Forsey’).

But while the underlying mechanical principles of mainsprings, gear-trains and ticking balance-wheel escapements were more-or-less shared around the world (and still are), the Swiss managed to mark themselves out from London, New York or Paris’s artisans. How? Division of labour.

It was down to the genius of goldsmith Daniel Jeanrichard (1665-1741), who devised a system called établissage in the Jura mountains. This cottage industry (chalet industry?) saw the closely guarded knowledge of a few watchmakers spread to independent workshops, each one with its own specialism. The system survives to this day.

In fact, many of the workshops dotting the valleys of the Jura were run by the local dairy farmers who, come the harsh, isolating winter snow, would round up their livestock and turn to their home workshops. Making wheels of cheese with cows turned into making wheels of metal with lathes.

REX/Shutterstock

“From the 1740s to the early 1800s,” explains Michel Golay, who runs Audemars Piguet’s watchmaking museum in Le Brassus, “the farmers-turned-watchmakers in the Jura walked to Geneva every spring to sell the movements they’d made over the winter to the cabinottiers and établisseurs, who finished the movements and cased them up as complete, branded watches.”

Soon enough, the hill farmers realised they could make more money by putting their own names on the dials, says Golay. “Many of them stopped farming altogether and began making watches all year. Families throughout the valley co-operated, and gradually the quality of the craftsmanship increased, as did their reputation.”

The Jura’s La Chaux-de-Fonds is considered the true ‘cradle’ of Swiss Jura watchmaking – the highest city in Europe at 1,000 metres above sea level, colloquially known as ‘Watch Valley’. Here, in this snowy backwater of central Europe, you’ll find the gleaming glass and steel factories of Tissot, TAG Heuer, Breitling, Cartier and countless others nestled idyllically in rolling, verdant foothills, surrounded by cows and their clanking bells.

REX/Shutterstock

Your Budget

So how much to spend, and what will that get you?

Like with holidays or property, that age-old adage applies with a wristwatch: spend as much as you can afford, as you’ll never regret it. But whatever that figure is, rest assured that with a Swiss watch, you will invariably get your money’s worth.

Under £500

Watch snobs be gone: less than £500 will get you a very decent piece of wristwear, with all the after-sales support you’d expect from a watch 10 times the price. You’ll struggle to find a Swiss mechanical movement much under £800 (with the noble exceptions of Tissot and Hamilton) but there’s no shame in a Swiss quartz watch, powered by a battery instead of a spring.

It uses the 32kHz vibration of the titular crystal to regulate the ‘tick’ of the watch – infinitely more precise than a mechanical balance wheel oscillating at a relatively agricultural 4Hz, and losing no more than 10 seconds a year.

For the most affordable watches look to Swiss-made Bulova, Certina, Tissot and Mondaine (but also note that Japanese watchmakers Seiko or Citizen are arguably the heavyweights when it comes to quartz).

£500–£3,000

This is the budget bracket you should be considering with your first company bonus – you’ll be guaranteed the prestige of a Swiss mechanical, preferably ticking away beneath a clear caseback, admirable in the same way as a mid-mounted Ferrari V8 growling beneath its glass engine cover.

An automatic mechanical movement is the most common, and this is where your money’s going. Fitted with an off-kilter weight, or ‘rotor’ that swings with the movement of your arm, this keeps the winding barrel tightly wound. In turn, the winding spring powers a gear-train to which hours, minutes and seconds hands are attached. Manually-wound mechanical movements are increasingly popular, though, as the lack of rotor permits a clearer view into that mesmerising constellation of moving parts.

Brands to bear in mind include Longines, Bell & Ross, Victorinox, Raymond Weil, Nomos Glashütte and Tudor.

Up To £5,000

This is where it can get overwhelming, as many make their first big horological investment in this price range and don’t want to get it wrong. So, for a start, do your research, take your time, visit your friendly local jeweller and don’t be afraid to ask stupid questions – chances are, they’re wiser than you think.

The good news is that so many of Swiss watchmaking’s enduring classics fall into this category, and you’ll never go wrong purchasing one, whether it’s a TAG Heuer Carrera, Omega Seamaster, Tudor Black Bay, or even a Breitling.

North Of £5,000

This is venturing into serious collector territory, where most of your cash is going towards a movement that – rather than being a standard-issue Swiss automatic mechanical movement – gets ‘manufacture’ mechanics, and is made ‘in-house’ by the brands, with exacting hand-polish applied to the tiniest parts as icing on the cake.

Think Rolex, Zenith, IWC, Hublot, Jaeger-LeCoultre; luxury watch brands with revered heritage in spades, innovation to rival NASA, and every single timepiece the result of months of painstaking work at the hands of some extraordinarily skilled individuals.

Decisions, Decisions…

To kick off, you’ll want a watch for every eventuality – or at least one that straddles a few of life’s regular scenarios. An easy choice for the office is a black leather strap and a clean, silver dial. But when Saturday comes, you may also want a watch that looks appropriate while trimming the hedge – in which case, a metal bracelet instead of leather makes it perfect for both.

People joke about a chronograph only being good for timing an egg – but if you do have soft-boiled eggs for breakfast, then a chronograph is far more convenient than finding the stopwatch app on your phone (and smearing yolk on your screen). Alternatively, a diving watch is useful for diving, yes, but if you harbour an abject fear of open water it still serves as an all-purpose, wear-it-and-forget-about-it watch for all conditions.

Obviously, ‘one watch to rule them all’ will only stretch so far – which is where the notion of a watch wardrobe comes in. It takes years of steady, considered investment, but a solid line-up for the top of your dresser (or sock drawer) looks something like this:

The Rugged All-Rounder

Slightly retro military-style watches work well here, with black dial, monochrome markings and maybe a brown-leather strap, e.g. Bremont’s Airco or Tudor’s Heritage Ranger.

Tudor Heritage Ranger

The Diving Watch

Water-resistance and ruggedness are key here, making diving watches great for strapping on and forgetting about – ideal for beach holidays, epic post-dinner-party washing-up sessions, or simply making a colourful statement, e.g. Victorinox INOX Diver.

Victorinox INOX Diver

The Dress Watch

What it says on the tin: classical formality for the boardroom meeting or black tie event, e.g. Longines Flagship or Cartier Tank.

Cartier Tank

Sports Watch

This usually means a stop-watch chronograph is in the mix, with either a rubber strap or metal bracelet, e.g. Baume & Mercier Clifton Club.

Baume & Mercier Clifton Club

The Classics

A rare breed of watch from one of Switzerland’s big boys that’ll never age or look out of place. Usually comes on a bracelet. Look no further than Omega’s Seamaster, Rolex’s Submariner (both diving watches, funnily enough), the IWC Portugieser and TAG Heuer’s Carrera.

Omega Seamaster

The Brands

Buy a watch from any reputable dealer or direct from any of the big brands, and you can’t go wrong – neither have come this far flogging dodgy tickers hung from the inside of their overcoats. But what sort of design, heritage or make-up speaks to you, and what does it say about you? There’s no getting around it; the brand you endorse is important, especially as it’s just about the most personal thing you’ll possess. Just make sure of one thing: go into the store and try it on. You’ll instantly know, either way.

Tissot

One of the grand dames of Swiss watchmaking, with heritage in spades, and along with Rolex and Omega, a member of the rarefied ‘billion club’ [its revenue was $1.1m last year]. Despite what you’d think, however, Tissot is one of the most affordable means of joining the rarefied Swiss-made-watch club – £395 will get you a supremely chic Le Locle automatic, named after Tissot’s home town.

Baume & Mercier

A member of Richemont Group’s unrivalled portfolio of luxury watch brands (stablemates include Cartier, IWC and ‘the German Patek Philippe’, A. Lange & Söhne) most people quietly respected 188-year-old B&M as the necessarily affordable arm of a formidable arsenal of haute horlogerie.

But just when you thought it was all inoffensive ‘sports luxe’ kitted out with third-party mechanics, the Baumatic comes along – genuinely ‘in-house’ innovation with antimagnetic silicon components, five-day power reserve and five-year service intervals… all for just £2,500.

Oris

One of the first Swiss brands not afraid to embrace industrialised techniques from across the pond, Oris has always been about quality mechanical watches at an incredibly reasonable price. The styles run the gamut from retro dress watches inspired by the smoky jazz clubs of the fifties to utilitarian pilot watches, never usually much more than a grand.

Most recently, as well as a handsome four-grand venture into prestige ‘manufacture’ movements, the focus has been beneath the waves, spearheaded by a number of noble ocean-conservation initiatives and arguably the finest retro revivals in a recent swathe of retro revivals – the Divers Sixty-Five.

Longines

A rung or two up the vast Swatch Group’s portfolio from Tissot, you’ll find Longines – a brand that rivalled Omega and Rolex back in the day, with a string of important technical evolutions in the early 20th century, including chronographs for the wrist, sports timing equipment and lifesaving navigational aids for those magnificent men in their flying machines (including one Charles Lindbergh, no less).

These days, the innovation is left to other Swatch Group brands like Breguet and Omega, but for good-value, classically designed Swissness, you can’t beat Longines’ Master and Heritage collections.

Tudor

From its 1940s conception, Tudor mirrored Rolex – it had the same designs and model names, but with a different logo and cheaper movements. Genius marketing initiative from Switzerland’s biggest name. However, Tudor’s ‘Submariner’ diving watch was quickly adopted by the Israeli naval commandos in the 1960s, followed famously by French naval divers and the US elite combat divers. And it’s this heritage that’s been drawn on so effectively in recent years, affording ‘Rolex’s little brother’ to grow up at last into a titan of Swiss watchmaking, complete with in-house movement factory. Still just as affordable, mind.

Omega

From Cindy Crawford to Buzz Aldrin via James Bond; from timing every Olympics event to pioneering the only major advancement in horological engineering in two centuries (the Co-Axial escapement, since you ask), the world of Omega is a vast, multifaceted one.

In terms of the watches themselves, though? Difficult to fault, in a nutshell. The ‘Moonwatch’ Speedmaster is still the only timepiece to have been ‘flight qualified’ by NASA and boasts one of the most classic chronograph designs in history. While the Seamaster diving watch is still the choice of 007, yes, but also real-life Royal Navy frogmen.

Rolex

Hans Wilsdorf founded the Most-Namechecked Brand in Hip Hop as recently as 1905, in London believe it or not, giving it a generic name that was easy to pronounce across different languages. He was a marketing genius, strapping his newfangled ‘Oyster’ to English Channel swimmer Mercedes Gleitze in 1926 and advertising its proven water-resistance on the front cover of the Daily Mail. The Oyster developed into the Submariner diving watch in the fifties, in response to the burgeoning craze for SCUBA, and was worn by James Bond well into the Timothy Dalton days.

Despite appearances, things never rest chez Rolex, thanks to it constantly honing a limited range of super-precise, super-reliable mechanical calibres and timeless designs like the Cosmograph Daytona. It might be a predictable choice, but Rolex watches are arguably the best in the world, and generally accrue in value.

Zenith

An early pioneer of the ‘manufacture’ process, Zenith brought virtually every trade in watchmaking beneath a single roof in Le Locle (over the road from Tissot) in order to speed up development and guarantee parts supply.

Its other claim to fame is the El Primero chronograph, which tied with Heuer’s Calibre 11 in 1969 as the world’s first self-winding stopwatch for the wrist, but still has the edge thanks to its high frequency tick. This essentially means it can time events to a margin of one tenth of a second rather than an eighth. ‘Basic’ El Primeros also happen to be the most bargainous in-house automatic chronographs out there.

Officine Panerai

If they re-made Wall Street, it wouldn’t be a yellow gold Cartier peeping out from Gordon Gekko’s starched French cuff, it would be the nineties pioneer of ‘oversize’, Officine Panerai, in gold.

Every corner office’s favourite timekeeper started life in the thirties, when the Italian Navy requested a diving watch from its preferred equipment maker. More used to making saltwater chandlery than finickity tickers, Panerai turned to Rolex, who essentially added a strap to one of its cushion-shaped pocket watches. The iconic cushion shape stuck, but the rebooted brand now makes its own, top-end movements. Expensive, yes, but not nearly as expensive as those original Rolex models at auction. (If you can find one…)

Nomos Glashütte

To finish with a wild card, this is the only brand in our list that isn’t Swiss. Germany is your first port of call if you decide not to buy Swiss and Nomos is one of the country’s most impressive watchmakers. It’s also the only brand here formed in our lifetime, in 1990 – immediately after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Given the import of Swissness and heritage in the stuffy world of watchmaking, this makes Nomos’s meteoric rise as impressive as the watches themselves. They’re based in the tiny village of Glashütte, nestled – Swiss Jura-style – in the picturesque Ore Mountains, near Dresden, along with every other major German watchmaker. Ice-cool Bauhaus modernism married with in-house mechanical prowess and bafflingly low price tags makes Nomos a compelling case if you’re venturing out of Switzerland.

[automation66-blog]

Tips On Best Home Automation Systems

Tips On Best Home Automation Systems

The word automation itself signifies the rising technology by changing handbook dealing with units into automated units. It is very a lot related to digital gadgets and these are the technology right now to make our life easier and to work on one thing which is impossible to be performed manually. One of many places that we will find all these automated devices is at home. Residence automation system simply refers to air con unit, heating and ventilating unit, lightings, gate system, safety system and others.

An instance of dwelling automation system could be kitchen home equipment. A new technology referred to as ignition stove has been invented to ensure that the kitchen will not be stuffed list of home automation companies in india by smoke after cooking. It is clean and environmental pleasant range. Aside from that, you possibly can have automated blender or digital oven at home for cooking purposes.

Apart from that, you may have automated washing machines at home in your garments. You simply must put all your soiled shirts into the machine and detergent. It would wash, rinse and spin for at least three rounds to ensure that the garments are clean. You will have a fridge at dwelling too. You'll be able to store all of your raw and raw food on the freezer to make sure its freshness. Some meals, fruits and drinks must be refrigerated as effectively.

One other house automation device can be vacuum cleaner. Vacuum cleaner has replaces conventional method of sweeping the floor utilizing broom. You just have to change on the ability supply and move home automation products india the vacuum all around your home. The grime will likely be suck into the vacuum cleaner. Houses also need air conditioning unit or heating unit to ensure the consolation level for your loved ones.

These are among the primary automation units needed for every household. You can easily buy this stuff at electrical outlets and request them to put in them for you.

The modern residence has so many automated units in place, some apparent some not. House automation could look like one thing Q would equip James Bond with, or that only the rich have. However when you concentrate on it many aspects of know-how in your home are already automated - heating timers, underfloor heating in some rooms, safety alarm, security cameras, perhaps your garage door. These are all elements of home control know-how on an individual scale. The true trick is to have that one all-encompassing system that mixes all the smaller automation components in every autonomous system and combines them right into a single neat interface for you and your family to stay with. The control system can then "listen" to all it's connected devices and react to alerts both for safety reasons, entertainment reasons, or simply for convenience!

Safety

Safety alarms these days are rather more of a complex beast than earlier than. Many have in-built residence automation features in addition to the standard network of PIRs, contact sensors and sounders. Already it's commonplace for an alarm to routinely call out to the police when activated, maybe ship an alert to a call centre or to your mobile. But with a control system in place the alarm (or a panic button press) could be listened for and might go on to activate a collection of events. All of the lights can activate. All of the windows and doorways will shut/lock. The cameras all go into record mode and show on the television screens which have also all turned themselves on. Perhaps the skin lights flash on and off to alert the neighbours to a possible hazard. With a control system like this in place you're making sure you and your family are secure. Neighbourhood security is increased too (assuming you like your neighbours!).

Entertainment

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Residence automation isn't all serious and boring. Your own home automation system can embrace your multiroom audio and multiroom video system. With the same keypad on the wall which you could flick on the lights, your automation system may even let you turn up the music, activate the TELEVISION. Every morning have the house routinely play your favourite song or radio station as an alarm. While you come house at night time and you press your garage door button within the automotive, the home automation system will pick up your private flag and put the TV onto your favorite channel, turn on the lights for you, open up the rooflights maybe. Having friends over? With a push of a button on a keypad the ambient lighting will come on over the drinks table, some cool music will play by way of the speakers, the fire might ignite. Hand across the wireless automation controller or iPad and you'll select music to play with each other.

Comfort

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Your House Automation system will make your life simpler. More often than not running automation tasks in the background that you simply aren't even aware of! With lighting pathways in place come house and press WELCOME on the house automation keypad and the hallway, kitchen and stairwell lights will all activate. Within the background the system will make sure you are only using the amount of brightness essential to illuminate the way, saving bulb life and vitality bills. Go to mattress and press GOODNIGHT and the house automation system will shut the curtains, flip off the lights, shut off the TV, leaving you to have a peaceable sleep realizing you might be secure and safe in your automated dwelling.

Combining safety and convenience (and probably even leisure) with fashionable iPads and similar gadgets you possibly can log on to your house automation system on the transfer! Verify your safety cameras from work to see that the cleaners are Cloudblocks home automation companies in india doing their job, or that the youngsters are protected. Forgot to show off the heating earlier than going on vacation? Pickup your laptop computer and cargo the house software program and shut the heat off. Ensure the lights are off too!

Having home automation is an unobtrusive elegant resolution. It takes the wall acne of a thermostat, mild switch, blinds switch, CCTV display screen, door entry phone, music keypad all being on the wall together, and replaces it with an elegant single keypad or touchscreen interface. It doesn't necessarily should be complete dwelling automation, maybe simply the important thing rooms in the home. Or just the ground flooring residing areas.

Dwelling in a home the place all of the gadgets may be managed by a single management panel or a small distant management will not be an thought from the flicks. It is extremely a lot a reality. You'd keep in mind that Cloudblocks home automation system india televisions and computer systems have been as soon as believed to be the products of fiction. Today, you can absolutely automate your home and management your units with the assistance of a single control panel.

Many people have put in home automation techniques of their houses. The know-how has proved to be a blessing for those who lead busy lives and has made Cloudblocks smart switches india their lives more comfortable and secure. You should use your property automation system to regulate each and every digital appliance in your home.

Beforehand, house automation programs weren't wi-fi. They have been managed by a hard-wired management panel. Due to development in the subject of laptop know-how, wireless dwelling automation techniques at the moment are available in the market to reinforce the standard of life of individuals.

Automation producers have now built-in wireless technology of their dwelling automation options. Some of us have already used arduous-wired Learn More Here automation techniques. Now, just contemplate the benefits of wireless know-how integrated into a house automation system.

A house automation system comprise three parts: a pc-like microprocessor, a construction wiring, and a connection heart. An expert normally does the structured wiring and connects it to the connection center, within which the microprocessor is positioned. The microprocessor, which you management, in turn controls the complete automation system. The microprocessor has just one operate--talk with the units in your home. It interprets your instructions in a language that your private home gadgets can understand.

A wi-fi residence automation system uses a contact display screen wi-fi management panel, which you'll carry with you. Think about the next scenario. You're watching a movie, and also you suddenly remembered that you've got left the kitchen lights on. You do not have to get up and go to the kitchen, thereby interrupting your movie-watching expertise. Merely contact an icon on your touch display screen wi-fi management panel, and the lights in your kitchen will go off.

Certain dwelling automation programs might be programed to reply to your voice. It data your voice first, and thereafter, obeys all of your spoken instructions. Apart from the touch display wireless management panel, you will be able to regulate your units through your voice alone. Simply use a command and your pc will report and retailer it. If you give the same command once more, your pc will match your voice with the stored recording, and can immediately turn off or activate the respective lights or electronic system or watering system.

You can now connect your property automation system to the Internet. Irrespective of where you are, you can access the units in your own home by way of the Web. For example, in case you are caught in traffic, you may flip in your PDA, go surfing, and through the Internet, you may turn in your air-con to cool the temperature of your home, the music system to play your favourite music, and the espresso maker to make a cup of hot coffee for you. Once you attain residence, you'll find your private home set to the perfect temperature whereas your favorite music greets your ears and a cup of freshly brewed espresso waits for you.

With a wi-fi house automation system, you possibly can control what occurs in your own home no matter the place you're. Dwelling automations of the longer term may convey more wonders. Maybe future dwelling automations will integrate Related Site robotic technology, and in the future, you will have your own private robot to do all of your work for you. Your robot would possibly also have a hot dinner ready for you by the point you come residence from work.

Know-how has made life protected,secure, and straightforward. You may reside in a "home of the long run" in the present day itself. Simply install a wi-fi house automation system.

House automation is gaining great reputation and is being widely accepted all through the world. It's deemed as the ultimate luxury as all the each day chores are executed at the flick of a single button. Persons main a busy life-style discover it tiring to switch on or change off electronic items or the lights. With dwelling automation programs, all these seemingly mundane chores might be achieved with the flick of a switch. The know-how is comparatively new and presently inexpensive to the wealthy. Ordinary households will discover it costly to purchase these gadgets although they are very handy.

House Automation Inc (HAI) is an organization that deals with home automation techniques. If you're inquisitive about automating your property utilizing this know-how, you may visit the website of the corporate to take a look at the assorted choices obtainable. HAI has a full vary of house automation merchandise that take care of safety, lighting, temperature and audio control. It is simpler to access the house automation merchandise you probably have a telephone and Web connectivity in your home.

HAI can provide residence automation products for newly constructed or present houses. more information on wikipedia They've two predominant forms of home automation techniques, as detailed below:

1. Omni Family House Control System:

This system has inbuilt UL-listed security and consists of temperature, lighting, hearth methods and audio management. The system is obtainable with phone connectivity or the smart home appliances in india Internet. You can select between the three decisions of Omni LT, Omni Professional II and Omni Ile. Each of them has their own specs, options, dimension and worth vary.

This system has varied features like centralized management of the safety, temperature and lights. It has built-in telephone access, serial ports, Ethernet port and modem. The safety features include UL-listed housebreaking and hearth alarms, totally expandable safety zones, supervised zones, smoke detectors, digital communicators, even log, wireless safety and true partitioning.

The automation options embrace:

Advanced lighting control,

Programs on a console, private pc or contact display.

Scheduling of the safety, lighting and temperature based list of home automation companies in india on dawn, sundown or the day, date and time.

Control of system occasions like motion detection, Cloudblocks Social Network door entry and mode change.

Distant management use for thermostats, lighting and security.

Superior management programming (ACP).

The Lumina Family residence control system:

This system can be used in any existing or new houses. It can be mixed with the present security system. You can choose between two options of Lumina and Lumina Professional.

The Lumina system offers a high quality of lighting management that's wireless and really costly. The inbuilt Cloudblocks clock calculates sunrise and sundown time and likewise the daylight saving time, mechanically.

This technique utilizes UPB, the most sophisticated customary in digital communications. It is straightforward Cloudblocks home automation products india to function as all the pieces is programmed to be turned on at the change of a button.

HAI is understood for their lighting devices, often called the HAI Lighting management. These units work independently. The system will enable you to change the settings of the lights with a phone name or by means of Internet access. With the help of the HAI lighting control system, one can create a dramatic lighting effect for the home to swimsuit the occasion. The music system might be programmed to play totally different music in different rooms.

Residence automation methods from HAI are designed for the safety and safety of the household. A smart and futuristic residence designed for consolation and comfort turns into a actuality with HAI residence jobs in home automation companies in india automation systems. All that you must do is take a look at their web site to assemble the information you want, and make your collection of the home automation system suitable for your residence.

[rtawngs20815]

Hey, Here Are Some People Who Really, Really Should Not Run For President

March 2017 is probably far too early to start considering the next presidential election, and who the Democrats might send into the breach to take on Donald Trump (assuming he runs for re-election, of course). That said, there’s already an awful lot of rumor and sigh in the news transom about people having sudden-onset political stirrings, including those setting their sights on a 2020 presidential run.

Some of them are the last vestiges of the Clinton network, still high on that old Third Way supply, banking on the belief that the country isn’t yet done with late-1990s nostalgia. But a new group of would-be candidates is on the rise ― extravagantly wealthy wannabes stirred both by the Clinton-era Democratic Party embrace of meritocratic elites and the success of Trump’s outsider run. And if they all have something in common, it’s that they are all the worst possible people for the Democrats to run for office, if you consider the lessons of the 2016 election.

What were those lessons? Well, for one thing, 2016 was the year that the Democratic Party’s obsessions with the professional class finally caught up with it. Amid roaring calls for solutions to widely felt economic inequities, Hillary Clinton ran a campaign largely based on social niceties and boardroom diversification, with some incremental crumbs thrown the way of middle- and working-class strivers.

None of it added up to a compelling enough case against the GOP’s con-man class-traitor to win the election. (And tellingly, some taken-for-granted Democratic strongholds fell to Trump at the exact moment Democrats needed them most.) But if there’s one thing both political parties share, it’s that they are slow to learn their lessons. The fear that the Democrats might stay the course, despite Clinton’s failings, suffused the atmosphere in the recent Democratic National Committee election ― and those who wanted a decisive change are still not sure they’re getting one with the election of former Obama Labor Secretary Tom Perez. That some of the Clinton family’s most dedicated hangers-on feel like they are the person to run for office in the Trump era likely won’t soothe their ravaged souls, either.

And then there are the unfortunate side effects of Trump’s win itself, which has apparently touched off a whole new round of thinking as to whether it would be a good idea to examine this moment in history ― in which a brash billionaire-celebrity outsider has ascended to the highest political office in the world ― and consider whether the time is right to have more brash billionaire-celebrity outsiders try to run for president.

That every single day of the Trump presidency has been a scintillating demonstration of the Peter Principle seems to not deter anybody. Instead, the event of a complete and utter billionaire buffoon with no political experience has suggested to a slew of other buffoons that, hey, why not me?

A century or two of yawning inequality has left us with no shortage of such buffoons. Hundreds of these folks have ascended to the dizzying heights of our American oligarchy ― or were born there ― and now gaze downward, gripped with the firm conviction that they should run all that they see below. “Stay in your lane,” once the byword of America’s true and most successful innovators, is advice too easily chucked aside by today’s captains of industry. And so, “meritocracy” has become something of a dirty word.

Nowadays, those who have found success in one area are just as likely not to think that their success is translatable to other endeavors. When this turns out not to be the case, comical hijinks ensue. Perhaps the apotheosis of this rich-people folly came when New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg thought it would be a good idea to appoint his friend, Hearst executive Cathleen Black, to the position of New York City schools chancellor ― despite the fact that her relevant experience could best be summed up as “not any.”

It was a huge disaster, but did anyone learn a damn thing from this experience? (Hmmm, let me check: Oh, yeah, Betsy DeVos is the U.S. secretary of education. So, no, nobody did.)

Still it’s one thing for Republicans to consider running the play ― they’ve obviously managed to make it work, at least in the narrow electoral sense. And their billionaire was no obscure figure. Entering the election with 100-percent name identification, and a years-long run in American living rooms as a fictional, all-knowing business leader, gave Trump legs up that your random billionaire lacks.

Replicating either side of the last presidential election is a losing move for Democrats. But it’s a very tempting one: It’s a notion that allows the easy-breezy fantasy that a massive party overhaul isn’t necessary, and that all of their problems can be ameliorated by either billionaires with quick fixes and cash on-hand, or Clinton 2016-redux candidates with better data and marketing.

With that in mind, here are a bunch of people whose political ambitions should be extinguished with all deliberate haste.

Bob Iger: Who, pray tell, is Bob Iger? Well, for a while, he was a member of Trump’s Strategic and Policy Forum, a collection of CEO heavyweights who were going to help Trump #MAGA, for which Iger was well suited as the chief executive of Walt Disney. SInce then, it’s been reported that he is mulling making a run for the White House in 2020. Hmmm, maybe he hasn’t thought through this whole politics thing? Apparently not, considering that his inspiration to maybe run for president stems from the fact that he says “a lot of people ― a lot ― have urged me to seek political office.” I mean, maybe set your sights a little lower, first time out?

J.B. Pritzker: Having endeavored mightily to paint the past two Republican presidential nominees as out-of-touch wealthy elites ― and having failed to distinguish their own last presidential nominee as something different ― are Democrats stupid enough to make an about-face and run their own billionaire?No, J.B. Pritzker wouldn’t make it out of Iowa without a negative vote total. But even though he’s recently been sniffing around the possibility of running in the Illinois gubernatorial election, that hasn’t stopped him from floating to friends that he’s considering making a run for the White House as well ― or so we’re told by one recipient of such a flatulent flotation. Pritzker, an heir to the Hyatt Hotel fortune, had designs on being commerce secretary under Hillary Clinton, just as his sister Penny Pritzker was under Obama. Just stop.

Sheryl Sandberg: According to some election-year rumors, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg was in the running to serve as Hillary Clinton’s treasury secretary. Since then, she’s been rumored to be considering a White House run, amid occasional denials. At the same time, she has recently been more open to Trump’s overtures. She was one of those Silicon Valley leaders who met with Trump prior to the inauguration. As Slate’s Helaine Owen notes, Sandberg made no public mention of the Women’s March that took place afterwards, a curious move for the “Lean In” maven ― at least until you consider the fact that “Lean In” is a disingenuous brand-washing scheme, and that Sandberg is especially unwilling to criticize her C-suite peers for crimes against women in the workforce.

Howard Schultz: The Starbucks CEO has said “never say never” to a presidential run. Indeed, Schultz would be the fever-dream candidate of the No Labels set: his political “brand,” insofar that he has one, is essentially based around his core belief that everyone in politics should be a lot nicer to each other. This worldview most famously manifested itself in the short-lived March 2015 “Race Together” campaign, in which Schultz ― after having mostly eliminated manual espresso machines in Starbucks stores ― tasked baristas with bridging America’s racial divide. If you want a president who believes that all of America’s problems can be solved by constantly throwing corporate culture at them, he’s your guy.

Mark Zuckerberg: Hey, let’s see: Do we really want the founder and CEO of Facebook ― a business that depends on learning as much about your private life as possible, more and more every single day, always probing and collecting, never ceasing in its sleepless drive to know everything about you, better than you could possibly know yourself, until the very idea of “privacy” becomes an obsolete concept and individual autonomy is subordinated to a set of bloodless algorithms and advertisers are straight-up living inside your dreams ― to be our president? I dunno, man. As Big Brother might say, that sounds doubleplusungood!

Chelsea Clinton: Anyone else notice how after the election, Chelsea Clinton has been slowly creeping into our lives? There’s been this gradual ramping up of Total Chelsea Clinton Awareness, and along with it, the gradual ramping up of yet another Clinton’s political career ― even though, up until now, Chelsea Clinton has essentially been nothing more than a lodestar for other people’s money to find their way into Clinton bank accounts. (I read here that she was paid $600,000 to do journalism? Holy cats, how long did it take Jimmy Breslin to make $600,000?) Anyway, she’s been tweeting lately ― tweets that feel a little too clever, but not enough to be thought of as “edgy” ― the sort of social media output that makes you want to look for hidden wires. Hillary Clinton got a lot of stick ― unfairly so ― for lacking authenticity, but her daughter’s recent re-emergence feels like a ghost in the shell being willed into existence by a team of P.R. firms. We don’t suspect we have to fear a run in 2020 from Chelsea. But let’s please add every year in the future, ever, to that safe space.

Terry McAuliffe: The biggest beneficiary of the Clinton family to not have actual Clinton family DNA (probably, anyway!), McAuliffe revived his political career by winning the 2013 gubernatorial election in Virginia. It was close. Too close, considering he was running against a throwback Christian conservative ideologue in the form of Ken Cuccinelli. During the 2016 campaign, McAuliffe distinguished himself by telling reporters at the Democratic National Convention that Hillary Clinton was definitely going to support the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade deal after the election. The TPP, if you recall, was the thing convention-goers booed and jeered more lustily than Donald Trump. McAuliffe and his spin-team later tried to walk this back, saying that it was just McAuliffe who supported the TPP, which ― is still not good? Anyway, he is basically kooky, has a lot of funny-money connections, and suffers from the fact that Virginia has a one-term term limit for governor, leaving him with an itch that has to be scratched, probably with a huge pile of donor money that could be put to any number of more productive purposes.

Andrew Cuomo: The Clintons and Cuomos have never been particularly warm to each other, but the two political dynasties, eternally orbiting one another, have managed to seamlessly apply the transactional-slash-triangulating political style they share in common to their interpersonal relationships. Now, as rumors mount that Cuomo is considering a White House bid, he’s welcoming former Clinton campaign staff into his fold, where they’ll likely discover similarities to their natural habitat. Liberals have, in recent months, thrilled to Cuomo’s stance on fracking and his defense of immigrants, but they’re setting themselves up for huge disappointments. Cuomo, who is astonishingly petty and mean-minded, has done more to dampen the fortunes of New York’s Democratic Party than New York Republicans have. And he’s corrupt as all get-out to boot ― his most notable accomplishment as governor was to shut down the Moreland Commission anti-corruption inquiry as soon as the probe starting sniffing around targets with ties to the governor ― and getting away with it.

That, right there, is a murderer’s row of the exact wrong candidates for the Democratic Party, who’d be better advised to begin the hard work of rebuilding their party’s foundations and restoring a deep bench of new policymakers with fresh ideas. This is not the moment to try to lock arms with a gaggle of dilettante 1-percenters, promising to do what Trump pulled off. And it’s certainly not the time to try to revive the fortunes of their political cousins ― the broken remnants of the Clinton machine.

Drown these candidacies in the bathtub, right now.

Ryan Grim contributed.

~~~~~

Jason Linkins edits “Eat The Press” for The Huffington Post and co-hosts the HuffPost Politics podcast “So, That Happened.” Subscribe here, and listen to the latest episode below.  

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Agilenano - News: Because your home is now your workplace, gym, coffee shop, and primary care facility, you’ll need to keep it in good working order.

Under normal circumstances, “honey-do” lists and “weekend warrior” projects often get pushed aside by the daily grind. But in this bizarre new pandemic reality, that grind has ground to a halt. If there’s an upside, it’s that you have both time and incentive to knock out some of those around-the-house chores you may have put off. We spoke to a project manager and lead carpenter with a home remodeling business to find out what projects anyone can do to keep their homes in tip-top shape. And don’t worry if DYI isn’t your thing. Not only are these 11 tips easy for most anyone, but we even included a simple list of beginner tools to help build an essential toolkit you can be proud of. 11 Easy & Essential Home Maintenance Projects We spoke with John Wagner, a partner and project manager at the Twin Cities-based Waxwing Woodworking Inc. He identified 11 projects every homeowner should do to keep their house running efficiently and safely. And if you’re a renter, you can still check these things and let your landlord know. And while Wagner said you could easily get all these done during these social distancing mandates — some take as little as 30 seconds — at the very least, you could use this time to check all the items and make a plan for the next couple months. 1. Change your home air filter Filters should be changed monthly, and you should always have a spare one on hand. If you don’t, check the filter size and head on down to your friendly neighborhood filter (hardware/home improvement) store and pick up a bulk pack. Unless you have acute sensitivities to specific particulates, a filter with a “MERV” rating of 5 to 8 will be fine. A higher MERV rating will trap finer particles, but at some cost to the efficiency of your furnace. If you’re not sure what filter to use with your system, check the service manual or give a local heating contractor a call. Once you have the new filter, remove the old one and replace it, taking care to orient the filter for the direction of airflow. If you don’t have the size of the filter and direction of airflow written on your filter cover, now’s a good time to bust out the marker and get that done. 2. Clean gutters, check downspouts Take a walk around the perimeter of your house and check your gutters and downspouts. If you didn’t clean your gutters after the leaves fell last year, get to work. But don’t just leave that crap on the ground! (More on that later.) Downspouts should extend a minimum of 5 feet from the foundation to keep water from working its way into your basement. If you have a finished basement, a nice, long downspout could wind up saving you a ton of money. Most basement moisture problems arise from bulk water intrusion caused by bad slope and drainage. If your soil doesn’t slope away from your house (6 inches over 10 feet), that’s a major issue to address. Quick note: If you live in a cold climate, you should have a dehumidifier running from spring through fall (especially if you have a finished basement). 3. Prep garden, remove yard matter near your house Once you’ve thrown all your gutter goo onto the ground, pick it up. Rake up the old, decaying stuff from around the house so that soil isn’t building up against the house. If you put mulch around the house, it’s good to maintain 6 inches of clearance below the siding, especially if your siding material is a wood or wood composite. Personally, I like a 12- to 18-inch bed of crushed rock or gravel between the foundation and plants. That buffer will help prevent moisture and pests from working into the house. Plus, this is also a great time to plan for your vegetable garden. If the soil has thawed enough where you are, mix in some compost, and you’ll be ready to plant when the weather allows. Finally, now’s a great time for tree trimming. If you’re up to it and can do it safely, trim away dead or decaying branches and manage the growth of fruit trees. The University of Minnesota Extension has excellent resources for managing trees and gardening. 4. Clean air-conditioning coils First, you’ll want to clear away any plant growth around the condenser. Hook up your hose and decide how clean you want the condenser. You can either take the cover off (be sure to flip the breaker off inside) and clean from the inside out, or you can spray from the outside with the cover still on. Either way, spray at a downward angle until clean. If you’ve removed the cover to clean, you should be really proud of yourself — unless you damage the thin aluminum fins by folding them over. 5. Vacuum refrigerator coils Carefully walk out your refrigerator and start suckin’! Pull off the cover on the front that overlaps the wheels and vacuum that out. At the back of the fridge, vacuum the coils and motor. (No need to look behind the fridge, there’s definitely nothing there. Nope.) Just slide the fridge back. Be sure the fridge has an inch or so of clearance above it to allow warm air to escape. 6. Check siding for holes or other entrances for vermin, seal them If you had any winter guests this year, now’s a good time to check around the house to see how they got in. Start by following #3 above. Then, check for holes in the siding, gaps below the last course of siding (could be loose bricks or cracked stucco), or gaps that might have formed in your soffits. You can fix most means of ingress with better landscaping, steel wool, a good-quality caulk, or spray foam. Now, if you had squirrels or raccoons get into your attic through holes in your soffit or fascia, you might want to call a contractor. 7. Summerize snowblower, prep lawnmower for season If you’re not expecting more snow, get your snowblower ready to hibernate. Remove the fuel that’s in it and empty the fuel into a safe storage container (you can dump the fuel from the snowblower into your gas can). Don’t be a jerk neighbor and run your snowblower for 2 hours to burn off the fuel. Also, get some fuel stabilizer and pour that into your gas can before filling it up with gas. Next, clean up your snowblower. Lubricate any parts that move, pull the spark plug, and get a bit of oil worked through the motor by pulling the cord a couple of times. You might as well check to see if your augur blade is worn down or damaged; the same goes for the scraper blade. As for the lawnmower, if it ran well the year before, you should be able to fuel it up and get it going. If not, it’s generally a simple procedure to pull and clean the carburetor, replace the spark plug, and complete an oil change. Now, if you’re feeling frisky, you can check and sharpen the mower blade. Disconnect the spark plug, flip the mower, and remove the blade (you’ll need a wrench). Clamp the blade in a vise or clamp it to a sturdy table. With an angle grinder and a sanding pad, give the blade a few passes at a 30-degree angle. If you’re left with a rough burr on the back side of the edge, knock it off with a few passes of a file. If you don’t have an angle grinder, you can use a sharpening stone or a file, but it takes much longer. 8. Check washing machine filter, clean dryer vent This one is pretty straightforward. First, check your washer’s manual on how to clean the filter. It will probably say something smug, like, “Clean this filter monthly.” But there’s another inlet filter that’s also super easy to clean. Turn off the water supply, disconnect the hose, and remove any particulates. This is an especially important task if you have older, galvanized supply lines in your home. Cleaning the dryer vent is super important, too. First of all, your vent should be a rigid pipe, and the joints should be lapped so that lint isn’t accumulating at the edges. Disconnect the pipe from the dryer (just pull, and you might have to cut some tape) and check the vent on the dryer. Clear or dirty? Any toys in there? Next, take a look into the pipe. Slide a vacuum hose up there with a brush attachment. Now, head outside to the dryer’s exhaust port. On the outside of the house, check to see if the damper closes smoothly or if lint has accumulated there and was letting freezing-cold air into your house all winter. Clean it. Reattach the pipe and re-tape those joints with a quality foil tape. If you have a flexible vent pipe, switch to a rigid pipe. Rigid pipe will vent more efficiently, trap less lint, and is overall safer. 9. Check carbon monoxide and smoke detectors Test ‘em all! Change the batteries. If any of the units are old, replace them. Many new units come with sealed batteries and are good for 10 years. You should have a minimum of one smoke and one carbon monoxide (CO) detector on each floor, a smoke detector inside and outside of each bedroom, and a CO detector within 10 feet of each bedroom and sleeping area. 10. Upgrade your thermostat Get and install a smart thermostat. Personally, I like the ecobee. Chances are that your energy provider offers some kind of rebate, which will offset some of the initial cost. It proved super easy to install in my home, even though I didn’t have a C-wire. The savings started immediately, the unit is super intuitive and functional, it looks nice, and the sensors prioritize heating and cooling occupied spaces. Why do it? Because a super-easy way to save money and energy, as well as limit emissions, is to not be such an energy hog. Sign up for off-peak energy and adjust your thermostat settings so that your house is 65 degrees in the winter and 76 degrees in the summer. Some people may require different temps for health reasons, but your house doesn’t have to be 70 degrees all year ’round. 11. Check water heater The more adventurous among you may want to try a little water heater maintenance. Three things to do here: Check the pressure relief valve, check/replace the sacrificial anode, and flush the water heater. Testing the pressure relief valve will get a bit of scalding-hot water on the floor. So wear sturdy shoes. This one is better to watch — I recommend the trove of good info on the This Old House channel on YouTube. This is really a show, don’t tell fix. Check out some of the channel’s videos below. Temperature and pressure relief valve: Sacrificial anode: Flush water heater: Bonus: Start a home savings account The best way to save money is to actively save money. So if you have the luxury right now, you could start a savings account for your home. A good rule of thumb is to save 1.5-2% of your home’s value every year. If some of the systems in the house aren’t in great shape or are older, save a little more. For some perspective, a full replacement of a forced-air furnace and AC condenser can easily run up to $10,000 or more. Basic Toolkit for Home Maintenance To tackle most home improvement projects, you’ll need some rudimentary tools. Here’s a list of tools you should have on hand to tackle common DIY tasks: Home DIY Toolkit Hammer Phillips, flathead, or interchangeable-head screwdrivers Electric drill with bit kit and driver bits Tape measure Utility knife Pliers Adjustable wrench Small handsaw Voltage detector Wire nuts Wire cutters Safety glasses and ear protection Level (32″) Electrical, Teflon, duct, and painter’s tape Allen keys Small socket set Small pry bar Rags Pencils, sharpies The post 11 Simple Home Projects to Bang Out During Quarantine appeared first on GearJunkie. #Lifestyle #Coronavirus

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/because-your-home-is-now-your-workplace-gym-coffee-shop-and-primary-care-facility-you-ll-need-to-keep-it-in-good-working-order

[repwincoml4a0a5]

Hey, Here Are Some People Who Really, Really Should Not Run For President

March 2017 is probably far too early to start considering the next presidential election, and who the Democrats might send into the breach to take on Donald Trump (assuming he runs for re-election, of course). That said, there’s already an awful lot of rumor and sigh in the news transom about people having sudden-onset political stirrings, including those setting their sights on a 2020 presidential run.

Some of them are the last vestiges of the Clinton network, still high on that old Third Way supply, banking on the belief that the country isn’t yet done with late-1990s nostalgia. But a new group of would-be candidates is on the rise ― extravagantly wealthy wannabes stirred both by the Clinton-era Democratic Party embrace of meritocratic elites and the success of Trump’s outsider run. And if they all have something in common, it’s that they are all the worst possible people for the Democrats to run for office, if you consider the lessons of the 2016 election.

What were those lessons? Well, for one thing, 2016 was the year that the Democratic Party’s obsessions with the professional class finally caught up with it. Amid roaring calls for solutions to widely felt economic inequities, Hillary Clinton ran a campaign largely based on social niceties and boardroom diversification, with some incremental crumbs thrown the way of middle- and working-class strivers.

None of it added up to a compelling enough case against the GOP’s con-man class-traitor to win the election. (And tellingly, some taken-for-granted Democratic strongholds fell to Trump at the exact moment Democrats needed them most.) But if there’s one thing both political parties share, it’s that they are slow to learn their lessons. The fear that the Democrats might stay the course, despite Clinton’s failings, suffused the atmosphere in the recent Democratic National Committee election ― and those who wanted a decisive change are still not sure they’re getting one with the election of former Obama Labor Secretary Tom Perez. That some of the Clinton family’s most dedicated hangers-on feel like they are the person to run for office in the Trump era likely won’t soothe their ravaged souls, either.

And then there are the unfortunate side effects of Trump’s win itself, which has apparently touched off a whole new round of thinking as to whether it would be a good idea to examine this moment in history ― in which a brash billionaire-celebrity outsider has ascended to the highest political office in the world ― and consider whether the time is right to have more brash billionaire-celebrity outsiders try to run for president.

That every single day of the Trump presidency has been a scintillating demonstration of the Peter Principle seems to not deter anybody. Instead, the event of a complete and utter billionaire buffoon with no political experience has suggested to a slew of other buffoons that, hey, why not me?

A century or two of yawning inequality has left us with no shortage of such buffoons. Hundreds of these folks have ascended to the dizzying heights of our American oligarchy ― or were born there ― and now gaze downward, gripped with the firm conviction that they should run all that they see below. “Stay in your lane,” once the byword of America’s true and most successful innovators, is advice too easily chucked aside by today’s captains of industry. And so, “meritocracy” has become something of a dirty word.

Nowadays, those who have found success in one area are just as likely not to think that their success is translatable to other endeavors. When this turns out not to be the case, comical hijinks ensue. Perhaps the apotheosis of this rich-people folly came when New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg thought it would be a good idea to appoint his friend, Hearst executive Cathleen Black, to the position of New York City schools chancellor ― despite the fact that her relevant experience could best be summed up as “not any.”

It was a huge disaster, but did anyone learn a damn thing from this experience? (Hmmm, let me check: Oh, yeah, Betsy DeVos is the U.S. secretary of education. So, no, nobody did.)

Still it’s one thing for Republicans to consider running the play ― they’ve obviously managed to make it work, at least in the narrow electoral sense. And their billionaire was no obscure figure. Entering the election with 100-percent name identification, and a years-long run in American living rooms as a fictional, all-knowing business leader, gave Trump legs up that your random billionaire lacks.

Replicating either side of the last presidential election is a losing move for Democrats. But it’s a very tempting one: It’s a notion that allows the easy-breezy fantasy that a massive party overhaul isn’t necessary, and that all of their problems can be ameliorated by either billionaires with quick fixes and cash on-hand, or Clinton 2016-redux candidates with better data and marketing.

With that in mind, here are a bunch of people whose political ambitions should be extinguished with all deliberate haste.

Bob Iger: Who, pray tell, is Bob Iger? Well, for a while, he was a member of Trump’s Strategic and Policy Forum, a collection of CEO heavyweights who were going to help Trump #MAGA, for which Iger was well suited as the chief executive of Walt Disney. SInce then, it’s been reported that he is mulling making a run for the White House in 2020. Hmmm, maybe he hasn’t thought through this whole politics thing? Apparently not, considering that his inspiration to maybe run for president stems from the fact that he says “a lot of people ― a lot ― have urged me to seek political office.” I mean, maybe set your sights a little lower, first time out?

J.B. Pritzker: Having endeavored mightily to paint the past two Republican presidential nominees as out-of-touch wealthy elites ― and having failed to distinguish their own last presidential nominee as something different ― are Democrats stupid enough to make an about-face and run their own billionaire?No, J.B. Pritzker wouldn’t make it out of Iowa without a negative vote total. But even though he’s recently been sniffing around the possibility of running in the Illinois gubernatorial election, that hasn’t stopped him from floating to friends that he’s considering making a run for the White House as well ― or so we’re told by one recipient of such a flatulent flotation. Pritzker, an heir to the Hyatt Hotel fortune, had designs on being commerce secretary under Hillary Clinton, just as his sister Penny Pritzker was under Obama. Just stop.

Sheryl Sandberg: According to some election-year rumors, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg was in the running to serve as Hillary Clinton’s treasury secretary. Since then, she’s been rumored to be considering a White House run, amid occasional denials. At the same time, she has recently been more open to Trump’s overtures. She was one of those Silicon Valley leaders who met with Trump prior to the inauguration. As Slate’s Helaine Owen notes, Sandberg made no public mention of the Women’s March that took place afterwards, a curious move for the “Lean In” maven ― at least until you consider the fact that “Lean In” is a disingenuous brand-washing scheme, and that Sandberg is especially unwilling to criticize her C-suite peers for crimes against women in the workforce.

Howard Schultz: The Starbucks CEO has said “never say never” to a presidential run. Indeed, Schultz would be the fever-dream candidate of the No Labels set: his political “brand,” insofar that he has one, is essentially based around his core belief that everyone in politics should be a lot nicer to each other. This worldview most famously manifested itself in the short-lived March 2015 “Race Together” campaign, in which Schultz ― after having mostly eliminated manual espresso machines in Starbucks stores ― tasked baristas with bridging America’s racial divide. If you want a president who believes that all of America’s problems can be solved by constantly throwing corporate culture at them, he’s your guy.

Mark Zuckerberg: Hey, let’s see: Do we really want the founder and CEO of Facebook ― a business that depends on learning as much about your private life as possible, more and more every single day, always probing and collecting, never ceasing in its sleepless drive to know everything about you, better than you could possibly know yourself, until the very idea of “privacy” becomes an obsolete concept and individual autonomy is subordinated to a set of bloodless algorithms and advertisers are straight-up living inside your dreams ― to be our president? I dunno, man. As Big Brother might say, that sounds doubleplusungood!

Chelsea Clinton: Anyone else notice how after the election, Chelsea Clinton has been slowly creeping into our lives? There’s been this gradual ramping up of Total Chelsea Clinton Awareness, and along with it, the gradual ramping up of yet another Clinton’s political career ― even though, up until now, Chelsea Clinton has essentially been nothing more than a lodestar for other people’s money to find their way into Clinton bank accounts. (I read here that she was paid $600,000 to do journalism? Holy cats, how long did it take Jimmy Breslin to make $600,000?) Anyway, she’s been tweeting lately ― tweets that feel a little too clever, but not enough to be thought of as “edgy” ― the sort of social media output that makes you want to look for hidden wires. Hillary Clinton got a lot of stick ― unfairly so ― for lacking authenticity, but her daughter’s recent re-emergence feels like a ghost in the shell being willed into existence by a team of P.R. firms. We don’t suspect we have to fear a run in 2020 from Chelsea. But let’s please add every year in the future, ever, to that safe space.

Terry McAuliffe: The biggest beneficiary of the Clinton family to not have actual Clinton family DNA (probably, anyway!), McAuliffe revived his political career by winning the 2013 gubernatorial election in Virginia. It was close. Too close, considering he was running against a throwback Christian conservative ideologue in the form of Ken Cuccinelli. During the 2016 campaign, McAuliffe distinguished himself by telling reporters at the Democratic National Convention that Hillary Clinton was definitely going to support the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade deal after the election. The TPP, if you recall, was the thing convention-goers booed and jeered more lustily than Donald Trump. McAuliffe and his spin-team later tried to walk this back, saying that it was just McAuliffe who supported the TPP, which ― is still not good? Anyway, he is basically kooky, has a lot of funny-money connections, and suffers from the fact that Virginia has a one-term term limit for governor, leaving him with an itch that has to be scratched, probably with a huge pile of donor money that could be put to any number of more productive purposes.

Andrew Cuomo: The Clintons and Cuomos have never been particularly warm to each other, but the two political dynasties, eternally orbiting one another, have managed to seamlessly apply the transactional-slash-triangulating political style they share in common to their interpersonal relationships. Now, as rumors mount that Cuomo is considering a White House bid, he’s welcoming former Clinton campaign staff into his fold, where they’ll likely discover similarities to their natural habitat. Liberals have, in recent months, thrilled to Cuomo’s stance on fracking and his defense of immigrants, but they’re setting themselves up for huge disappointments. Cuomo, who is astonishingly petty and mean-minded, has done more to dampen the fortunes of New York’s Democratic Party than New York Republicans have. And he’s corrupt as all get-out to boot ― his most notable accomplishment as governor was to shut down the Moreland Commission anti-corruption inquiry as soon as the probe starting sniffing around targets with ties to the governor ― and getting away with it.

That, right there, is a murderer’s row of the exact wrong candidates for the Democratic Party, who’d be better advised to begin the hard work of rebuilding their party’s foundations and restoring a deep bench of new policymakers with fresh ideas. This is not the moment to try to lock arms with a gaggle of dilettante 1-percenters, promising to do what Trump pulled off. And it’s certainly not the time to try to revive the fortunes of their political cousins ― the broken remnants of the Clinton machine.

Drown these candidacies in the bathtub, right now.

Ryan Grim contributed.

~~~~~

Jason Linkins edits “Eat The Press” for The Huffington Post and co-hosts the HuffPost Politics podcast “So, That Happened.” Subscribe here, and listen to the latest episode below.  

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2mTj4As

[grgedoors02142]

Hey, Here Are Some People Who Really, Really Should Not Run For President

March 2017 is probably far too early to start considering the next presidential election, and who the Democrats might send into the breach to take on Donald Trump (assuming he runs for re-election, of course). That said, there’s already an awful lot of rumor and sigh in the news transom about people having sudden-onset political stirrings, including those setting their sights on a 2020 presidential run.

Some of them are the last vestiges of the Clinton network, still high on that old Third Way supply, banking on the belief that the country isn’t yet done with late-1990s nostalgia. But a new group of would-be candidates is on the rise ― extravagantly wealthy wannabes stirred both by the Clinton-era Democratic Party embrace of meritocratic elites and the success of Trump’s outsider run. And if they all have something in common, it’s that they are all the worst possible people for the Democrats to run for office, if you consider the lessons of the 2016 election.

What were those lessons? Well, for one thing, 2016 was the year that the Democratic Party’s obsessions with the professional class finally caught up with it. Amid roaring calls for solutions to widely felt economic inequities, Hillary Clinton ran a campaign largely based on social niceties and boardroom diversification, with some incremental crumbs thrown the way of middle- and working-class strivers.

None of it added up to a compelling enough case against the GOP’s con-man class-traitor to win the election. (And tellingly, some taken-for-granted Democratic strongholds fell to Trump at the exact moment Democrats needed them most.) But if there’s one thing both political parties share, it’s that they are slow to learn their lessons. The fear that the Democrats might stay the course, despite Clinton’s failings, suffused the atmosphere in the recent Democratic National Committee election ― and those who wanted a decisive change are still not sure they’re getting one with the election of former Obama Labor Secretary Tom Perez. That some of the Clinton family’s most dedicated hangers-on feel like they are the person to run for office in the Trump era likely won’t soothe their ravaged souls, either.

And then there are the unfortunate side effects of Trump’s win itself, which has apparently touched off a whole new round of thinking as to whether it would be a good idea to examine this moment in history ― in which a brash billionaire-celebrity outsider has ascended to the highest political office in the world ― and consider whether the time is right to have more brash billionaire-celebrity outsiders try to run for president.

That every single day of the Trump presidency has been a scintillating demonstration of the Peter Principle seems to not deter anybody. Instead, the event of a complete and utter billionaire buffoon with no political experience has suggested to a slew of other buffoons that, hey, why not me?

A century or two of yawning inequality has left us with no shortage of such buffoons. Hundreds of these folks have ascended to the dizzying heights of our American oligarchy ― or were born there ― and now gaze downward, gripped with the firm conviction that they should run all that they see below. “Stay in your lane,” once the byword of America’s true and most successful innovators, is advice too easily chucked aside by today’s captains of industry. And so, “meritocracy” has become something of a dirty word.

Nowadays, those who have found success in one area are just as likely not to think that their success is translatable to other endeavors. When this turns out not to be the case, comical hijinks ensue. Perhaps the apotheosis of this rich-people folly came when New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg thought it would be a good idea to appoint his friend, Hearst executive Cathleen Black, to the position of New York City schools chancellor ― despite the fact that her relevant experience could best be summed up as “not any.”

It was a huge disaster, but did anyone learn a damn thing from this experience? (Hmmm, let me check: Oh, yeah, Betsy DeVos is the U.S. secretary of education. So, no, nobody did.)

Still it’s one thing for Republicans to consider running the play ― they’ve obviously managed to make it work, at least in the narrow electoral sense. And their billionaire was no obscure figure. Entering the election with 100-percent name identification, and a years-long run in American living rooms as a fictional, all-knowing business leader, gave Trump legs up that your random billionaire lacks.

Replicating either side of the last presidential election is a losing move for Democrats. But it’s a very tempting one: It’s a notion that allows the easy-breezy fantasy that a massive party overhaul isn’t necessary, and that all of their problems can be ameliorated by either billionaires with quick fixes and cash on-hand, or Clinton 2016-redux candidates with better data and marketing.

With that in mind, here are a bunch of people whose political ambitions should be extinguished with all deliberate haste.

Bob Iger: Who, pray tell, is Bob Iger? Well, for a while, he was a member of Trump’s Strategic and Policy Forum, a collection of CEO heavyweights who were going to help Trump #MAGA, for which Iger was well suited as the chief executive of Walt Disney. SInce then, it’s been reported that he is mulling making a run for the White House in 2020. Hmmm, maybe he hasn’t thought through this whole politics thing? Apparently not, considering that his inspiration to maybe run for president stems from the fact that he says “a lot of people ― a lot ― have urged me to seek political office.” I mean, maybe set your sights a little lower, first time out?

J.B. Pritzker: Having endeavored mightily to paint the past two Republican presidential nominees as out-of-touch wealthy elites ― and having failed to distinguish their own last presidential nominee as something different ― are Democrats stupid enough to make an about-face and run their own billionaire?No, J.B. Pritzker wouldn’t make it out of Iowa without a negative vote total. But even though he’s recently been sniffing around the possibility of running in the Illinois gubernatorial election, that hasn’t stopped him from floating to friends that he’s considering making a run for the White House as well ― or so we’re told by one recipient of such a flatulent flotation. Pritzker, an heir to the Hyatt Hotel fortune, had designs on being commerce secretary under Hillary Clinton, just as his sister Penny Pritzker was under Obama. Just stop.

Sheryl Sandberg: According to some election-year rumors, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg was in the running to serve as Hillary Clinton’s treasury secretary. Since then, she’s been rumored to be considering a White House run, amid occasional denials. At the same time, she has recently been more open to Trump’s overtures. She was one of those Silicon Valley leaders who met with Trump prior to the inauguration. As Slate’s Helaine Owen notes, Sandberg made no public mention of the Women’s March that took place afterwards, a curious move for the “Lean In” maven ― at least until you consider the fact that “Lean In” is a disingenuous brand-washing scheme, and that Sandberg is especially unwilling to criticize her C-suite peers for crimes against women in the workforce.

Howard Schultz: The Starbucks CEO has said “never say never” to a presidential run. Indeed, Schultz would be the fever-dream candidate of the No Labels set: his political “brand,” insofar that he has one, is essentially based around his core belief that everyone in politics should be a lot nicer to each other. This worldview most famously manifested itself in the short-lived March 2015 “Race Together” campaign, in which Schultz ― after having mostly eliminated manual espresso machines in Starbucks stores ― tasked baristas with bridging America’s racial divide. If you want a president who believes that all of America’s problems can be solved by constantly throwing corporate culture at them, he’s your guy.

Mark Zuckerberg: Hey, let’s see: Do we really want the founder and CEO of Facebook ― a business that depends on learning as much about your private life as possible, more and more every single day, always probing and collecting, never ceasing in its sleepless drive to know everything about you, better than you could possibly know yourself, until the very idea of “privacy” becomes an obsolete concept and individual autonomy is subordinated to a set of bloodless algorithms and advertisers are straight-up living inside your dreams ― to be our president? I dunno, man. As Big Brother might say, that sounds doubleplusungood!

Chelsea Clinton: Anyone else notice how after the election, Chelsea Clinton has been slowly creeping into our lives? There’s been this gradual ramping up of Total Chelsea Clinton Awareness, and along with it, the gradual ramping up of yet another Clinton’s political career ― even though, up until now, Chelsea Clinton has essentially been nothing more than a lodestar for other people’s money to find their way into Clinton bank accounts. (I read here that she was paid $600,000 to do journalism? Holy cats, how long did it take Jimmy Breslin to make $600,000?) Anyway, she’s been tweeting lately ― tweets that feel a little too clever, but not enough to be thought of as “edgy” ― the sort of social media output that makes you want to look for hidden wires. Hillary Clinton got a lot of stick ― unfairly so ― for lacking authenticity, but her daughter’s recent re-emergence feels like a ghost in the shell being willed into existence by a team of P.R. firms. We don’t suspect we have to fear a run in 2020 from Chelsea. But let’s please add every year in the future, ever, to that safe space.

Terry McAuliffe: The biggest beneficiary of the Clinton family to not have actual Clinton family DNA (probably, anyway!), McAuliffe revived his political career by winning the 2013 gubernatorial election in Virginia. It was close. Too close, considering he was running against a throwback Christian conservative ideologue in the form of Ken Cuccinelli. During the 2016 campaign, McAuliffe distinguished himself by telling reporters at the Democratic National Convention that Hillary Clinton was definitely going to support the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade deal after the election. The TPP, if you recall, was the thing convention-goers booed and jeered more lustily than Donald Trump. McAuliffe and his spin-team later tried to walk this back, saying that it was just McAuliffe who supported the TPP, which ― is still not good? Anyway, he is basically kooky, has a lot of funny-money connections, and suffers from the fact that Virginia has a one-term term limit for governor, leaving him with an itch that has to be scratched, probably with a huge pile of donor money that could be put to any number of more productive purposes.

Andrew Cuomo: The Clintons and Cuomos have never been particularly warm to each other, but the two political dynasties, eternally orbiting one another, have managed to seamlessly apply the transactional-slash-triangulating political style they share in common to their interpersonal relationships. Now, as rumors mount that Cuomo is considering a White House bid, he’s welcoming former Clinton campaign staff into his fold, where they’ll likely discover similarities to their natural habitat. Liberals have, in recent months, thrilled to Cuomo’s stance on fracking and his defense of immigrants, but they’re setting themselves up for huge disappointments. Cuomo, who is astonishingly petty and mean-minded, has done more to dampen the fortunes of New York’s Democratic Party than New York Republicans have. And he’s corrupt as all get-out to boot ― his most notable accomplishment as governor was to shut down the Moreland Commission anti-corruption inquiry as soon as the probe starting sniffing around targets with ties to the governor ― and getting away with it.

That, right there, is a murderer’s row of the exact wrong candidates for the Democratic Party, who’d be better advised to begin the hard work of rebuilding their party’s foundations and restoring a deep bench of new policymakers with fresh ideas. This is not the moment to try to lock arms with a gaggle of dilettante 1-percenters, promising to do what Trump pulled off. And it’s certainly not the time to try to revive the fortunes of their political cousins ― the broken remnants of the Clinton machine.

Drown these candidacies in the bathtub, right now.

Ryan Grim contributed.

~~~~~

Jason Linkins edits “Eat The Press” for The Huffington Post and co-hosts the HuffPost Politics podcast “So, That Happened.” Subscribe here, and listen to the latest episode below.  

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2mTj4As

[stormdoors78476]

Hey, Here Are Some People Who Really, Really Should Not Run For President

March 2017 is probably far too early to start considering the next presidential election, and who the Democrats might send into the breach to take on Donald Trump (assuming he runs for re-election, of course). That said, there’s already an awful lot of rumor and sigh in the news transom about people having sudden-onset political stirrings, including those setting their sights on a 2020 presidential run.

Some of them are the last vestiges of the Clinton network, still high on that old Third Way supply, banking on the belief that the country isn’t yet done with late-1990s nostalgia. But a new group of would-be candidates is on the rise ― extravagantly wealthy wannabes stirred both by the Clinton-era Democratic Party embrace of meritocratic elites and the success of Trump’s outsider run. And if they all have something in common, it’s that they are all the worst possible people for the Democrats to run for office, if you consider the lessons of the 2016 election.

What were those lessons? Well, for one thing, 2016 was the year that the Democratic Party’s obsessions with the professional class finally caught up with it. Amid roaring calls for solutions to widely felt economic inequities, Hillary Clinton ran a campaign largely based on social niceties and boardroom diversification, with some incremental crumbs thrown the way of middle- and working-class strivers.

None of it added up to a compelling enough case against the GOP’s con-man class-traitor to win the election. (And tellingly, some taken-for-granted Democratic strongholds fell to Trump at the exact moment Democrats needed them most.) But if there’s one thing both political parties share, it’s that they are slow to learn their lessons. The fear that the Democrats might stay the course, despite Clinton’s failings, suffused the atmosphere in the recent Democratic National Committee election ― and those who wanted a decisive change are still not sure they’re getting one with the election of former Obama Labor Secretary Tom Perez. That some of the Clinton family’s most dedicated hangers-on feel like they are the person to run for office in the Trump era likely won’t soothe their ravaged souls, either.

And then there are the unfortunate side effects of Trump’s win itself, which has apparently touched off a whole new round of thinking as to whether it would be a good idea to examine this moment in history ― in which a brash billionaire-celebrity outsider has ascended to the highest political office in the world ― and consider whether the time is right to have more brash billionaire-celebrity outsiders try to run for president.

That every single day of the Trump presidency has been a scintillating demonstration of the Peter Principle seems to not deter anybody. Instead, the event of a complete and utter billionaire buffoon with no political experience has suggested to a slew of other buffoons that, hey, why not me?

A century or two of yawning inequality has left us with no shortage of such buffoons. Hundreds of these folks have ascended to the dizzying heights of our American oligarchy ― or were born there ― and now gaze downward, gripped with the firm conviction that they should run all that they see below. “Stay in your lane,” once the byword of America’s true and most successful innovators, is advice too easily chucked aside by today’s captains of industry. And so, “meritocracy” has become something of a dirty word.

Nowadays, those who have found success in one area are just as likely not to think that their success is translatable to other endeavors. When this turns out not to be the case, comical hijinks ensue. Perhaps the apotheosis of this rich-people folly came when New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg thought it would be a good idea to appoint his friend, Hearst executive Cathleen Black, to the position of New York City schools chancellor ― despite the fact that her relevant experience could best be summed up as “not any.”

It was a huge disaster, but did anyone learn a damn thing from this experience? (Hmmm, let me check: Oh, yeah, Betsy DeVos is the U.S. secretary of education. So, no, nobody did.)

Still it’s one thing for Republicans to consider running the play ― they’ve obviously managed to make it work, at least in the narrow electoral sense. And their billionaire was no obscure figure. Entering the election with 100-percent name identification, and a years-long run in American living rooms as a fictional, all-knowing business leader, gave Trump legs up that your random billionaire lacks.

Replicating either side of the last presidential election is a losing move for Democrats. But it’s a very tempting one: It’s a notion that allows the easy-breezy fantasy that a massive party overhaul isn’t necessary, and that all of their problems can be ameliorated by either billionaires with quick fixes and cash on-hand, or Clinton 2016-redux candidates with better data and marketing.

With that in mind, here are a bunch of people whose political ambitions should be extinguished with all deliberate haste.

Bob Iger: Who, pray tell, is Bob Iger? Well, for a while, he was a member of Trump’s Strategic and Policy Forum, a collection of CEO heavyweights who were going to help Trump #MAGA, for which Iger was well suited as the chief executive of Walt Disney. SInce then, it’s been reported that he is mulling making a run for the White House in 2020. Hmmm, maybe he hasn’t thought through this whole politics thing? Apparently not, considering that his inspiration to maybe run for president stems from the fact that he says “a lot of people ― a lot ― have urged me to seek political office.” I mean, maybe set your sights a little lower, first time out?

J.B. Pritzker: Having endeavored mightily to paint the past two Republican presidential nominees as out-of-touch wealthy elites ― and having failed to distinguish their own last presidential nominee as something different ― are Democrats stupid enough to make an about-face and run their own billionaire?No, J.B. Pritzker wouldn’t make it out of Iowa without a negative vote total. But even though he’s recently been sniffing around the possibility of running in the Illinois gubernatorial election, that hasn’t stopped him from floating to friends that he’s considering making a run for the White House as well ― or so we’re told by one recipient of such a flatulent flotation. Pritzker, an heir to the Hyatt Hotel fortune, had designs on being commerce secretary under Hillary Clinton, just as his sister Penny Pritzker was under Obama. Just stop.

Sheryl Sandberg: According to some election-year rumors, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg was in the running to serve as Hillary Clinton’s treasury secretary. Since then, she’s been rumored to be considering a White House run, amid occasional denials. At the same time, she has recently been more open to Trump’s overtures. She was one of those Silicon Valley leaders who met with Trump prior to the inauguration. As Slate’s Helaine Owen notes, Sandberg made no public mention of the Women’s March that took place afterwards, a curious move for the “Lean In” maven ― at least until you consider the fact that “Lean In” is a disingenuous brand-washing scheme, and that Sandberg is especially unwilling to criticize her C-suite peers for crimes against women in the workforce.

Howard Schultz: The Starbucks CEO has said “never say never” to a presidential run. Indeed, Schultz would be the fever-dream candidate of the No Labels set: his political “brand,” insofar that he has one, is essentially based around his core belief that everyone in politics should be a lot nicer to each other. This worldview most famously manifested itself in the short-lived March 2015 “Race Together” campaign, in which Schultz ― after having mostly eliminated manual espresso machines in Starbucks stores ― tasked baristas with bridging America’s racial divide. If you want a president who believes that all of America’s problems can be solved by constantly throwing corporate culture at them, he’s your guy.

Mark Zuckerberg: Hey, let’s see: Do we really want the founder and CEO of Facebook ― a business that depends on learning as much about your private life as possible, more and more every single day, always probing and collecting, never ceasing in its sleepless drive to know everything about you, better than you could possibly know yourself, until the very idea of “privacy” becomes an obsolete concept and individual autonomy is subordinated to a set of bloodless algorithms and advertisers are straight-up living inside your dreams ― to be our president? I dunno, man. As Big Brother might say, that sounds doubleplusungood!

Chelsea Clinton: Anyone else notice how after the election, Chelsea Clinton has been slowly creeping into our lives? There’s been this gradual ramping up of Total Chelsea Clinton Awareness, and along with it, the gradual ramping up of yet another Clinton’s political career ― even though, up until now, Chelsea Clinton has essentially been nothing more than a lodestar for other people’s money to find their way into Clinton bank accounts. (I read here that she was paid $600,000 to do journalism? Holy cats, how long did it take Jimmy Breslin to make $600,000?) Anyway, she’s been tweeting lately ― tweets that feel a little too clever, but not enough to be thought of as “edgy” ― the sort of social media output that makes you want to look for hidden wires. Hillary Clinton got a lot of stick ― unfairly so ― for lacking authenticity, but her daughter’s recent re-emergence feels like a ghost in the shell being willed into existence by a team of P.R. firms. We don’t suspect we have to fear a run in 2020 from Chelsea. But let’s please add every year in the future, ever, to that safe space.

Terry McAuliffe: The biggest beneficiary of the Clinton family to not have actual Clinton family DNA (probably, anyway!), McAuliffe revived his political career by winning the 2013 gubernatorial election in Virginia. It was close. Too close, considering he was running against a throwback Christian conservative ideologue in the form of Ken Cuccinelli. During the 2016 campaign, McAuliffe distinguished himself by telling reporters at the Democratic National Convention that Hillary Clinton was definitely going to support the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade deal after the election. The TPP, if you recall, was the thing convention-goers booed and jeered more lustily than Donald Trump. McAuliffe and his spin-team later tried to walk this back, saying that it was just McAuliffe who supported the TPP, which ― is still not good? Anyway, he is basically kooky, has a lot of funny-money connections, and suffers from the fact that Virginia has a one-term term limit for governor, leaving him with an itch that has to be scratched, probably with a huge pile of donor money that could be put to any number of more productive purposes.

Andrew Cuomo: The Clintons and Cuomos have never been particularly warm to each other, but the two political dynasties, eternally orbiting one another, have managed to seamlessly apply the transactional-slash-triangulating political style they share in common to their interpersonal relationships. Now, as rumors mount that Cuomo is considering a White House bid, he’s welcoming former Clinton campaign staff into his fold, where they’ll likely discover similarities to their natural habitat. Liberals have, in recent months, thrilled to Cuomo’s stance on fracking and his defense of immigrants, but they’re setting themselves up for huge disappointments. Cuomo, who is astonishingly petty and mean-minded, has done more to dampen the fortunes of New York’s Democratic Party than New York Republicans have. And he’s corrupt as all get-out to boot ― his most notable accomplishment as governor was to shut down the Moreland Commission anti-corruption inquiry as soon as the probe starting sniffing around targets with ties to the governor ― and getting away with it.

That, right there, is a murderer’s row of the exact wrong candidates for the Democratic Party, who’d be better advised to begin the hard work of rebuilding their party’s foundations and restoring a deep bench of new policymakers with fresh ideas. This is not the moment to try to lock arms with a gaggle of dilettante 1-percenters, promising to do what Trump pulled off. And it’s certainly not the time to try to revive the fortunes of their political cousins ― the broken remnants of the Clinton machine.

Drown these candidacies in the bathtub, right now.

Ryan Grim contributed.

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Jason Linkins edits “Eat The Press” for The Huffington Post and co-hosts the HuffPost Politics podcast “So, That Happened.” Subscribe here, and listen to the latest episode below.  

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