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mimosaeyes · 5 years ago

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“You could talk,” Jon says slowly. “Doesn’t matter what about, just as long as it’s distracting. That would... that would help, I think.”

Set during episode 39, when Martin and Jon are hiding from Jane Prentiss. 2.1k, pre-relationship.

For TMA hurt/comfort week organised by @themagnuswriters, prompt: “treating/distracting from injuries”

Content warnings: canon-typical worm imagery, blood, Martin’s Prentiss anxiety

Beta-ed by @emberidzae

Also available on AO3 here

Martin has triple-checked that the door is locked. He knows he has; he remembers jiggling the knob and scuffing his shoe on the seal over the crack at the bottom. Yet he keeps throwing nervous looks at the square of dirty glass through which he’d peered into the corridor. From where he’s sitting on the floor, knees hugged to his chest, he can’t tell where Jane Prentiss currently is, or what she’s doing. Not unless she were to press her wan face up against the window, the holes in her skin indistinguishable from her eye sockets, and raise one infested fist to knock.

He shudders and makes himself take a deep breath, subconsciously tightening his grip around the corkscrew. It’s still slick with Jon’s blood. His fingers slip a little, a sensation that makes his stomach turn. He takes another deep breath and glances to his right, where Jon is propped up against the wall with his injured leg stretched out in front of him. To Martin’s surprise, Jon’s attention is focused not on the door or his wound, but on him.

“What are you thinking about?” Jon asks — quietly, but the sound still startles Martin after a couple minutes of tense waiting. In the silence after Jon had paused the tape recorder, Martin has been left listening to his own, anxious thoughts. They’ve been running along the same well-worn tracks as during those thirteen days he spent trapped in his apartment: where is she, what do I do, is anyone coming, how long since I checked the door, where is she?

What do I do?

“I guess…” Martin hesitates, having a brief mental debate about how much is appropriate to say to your boss who’s just confided in you that he’s only dismissive because he’s afraid; helplessly so. “I felt safe, here. I didn’t think she could get in.” He pauses, glancing at the door. “Guess I was wrong.”

Jon surprises him for the umpteenth time today by saying, “I’m sorry.” He sounds genuinely sympathetic, and even leans forward as if to pat Martin’s arm, although he stops halfway, looking awkward.

As he slumps back against the wall, he winces, hissing slightly.

Furrowing his brow, Martin scoots closer to him. “Does your leg hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Jon says, literally lying through his teeth. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches it. He sighs. “Nothing to be done anyway, while we’re stuck here.”

He’s right, to an extent; they don’t have any medical supplies or even water to wash out whatever secretions a worm might leave behind. Martin shudders at the thought while eyeing the small pool of blood that has trickled out of Jon’s wound. “We can at least put pressure on it,” he decides at last.

After casting about the room for a moment and seeing only boxes and papers, he starts to remove his own jumper.

Jon blinks. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t have any other cloth,” Martin explains, lowering his arms again.

“I’m hardly going to bleed out from this,” Jon scoffs, his voice returning to its usual prickly tones. “There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

A few weeks ago, Martin would have backed down at once, stung by Jon’s standoffishness and jumping straight to the conclusion that Jon wouldn’t trust him to perform even such basic first aid on him. In light of today’s revelations, though, he merely narrows his eyes. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” Jon says flatly, looking askance. Martin takes that as a good indication that he’s hit the nail on the head with his inference.

“Pretending you’re not scared, so you won’t have to deal with how crazy this whole situation is. Well, you’re not fooling me.”

He maintains a firm, steady tone but holds his breath once he’s done speaking, silently worrying he has crossed a line. Several beats pass before Jon mumbles something in response.

“What?”

“I said you can use my vest,” Jon repeats, over-enunciating. He sounds arch again, though rather more cowed than before. Deftly, he unbuttons his vest with one hand while waving the other vaguely in Martin’s direction. “That’s one of your favourite jumpers; don’t ruin it on my account.”

The motion of him shrugging out of the vest does something fascinating to his collarbones, the lines of which are visible through his white button-up. It takes Martin a moment to process Jon’s words and ask, “Wait, how do you know I like this jumper?”

“Well, you wear it on special occasions, like your birthday,” Jon says as Martin begins to fold the vest. “You didn’t make Tim any tea for two days after that time he spilled some pasta sauce on the sleeve. And before you lived here, you sometimes left a hoodie or cardigan at your desk overnight, but never this jumper…” He trails off. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I?”

“It’s alright,” Martin tells him, while a pleasant, dizzy feeling starts up in a corner of his mind. He had no idea Jon noticed anything about him at all, aside from his supposedly incompetent work. “We do investigate mysteries.”

Such as the mystery of why Martin is about to use a vest made of what feels like rather expensive fabric to staunch the bleeding, when his own, comfy but ratty jumper is on hand. He clears his throat, glancing at Jon’s leg. “May I?”

At Jon’s nod, he pushes his trousers up to mid-calf. Then he stops and just stares at the ragged wound for a moment. He’s never thought of himself as being particularly squeamish, but he gets a little lightheaded anyway at how far the worm had tunnelled before Sasha managed to extract it.

This is what he’d pictured in the initial days of waiting out Prentiss, when he was still weighing the possibility of making a break for it. The mental image had effectively deterred any attempts. Since he’s started living in the Archives, he’s also woken up several times gasping from nightmares about the parasites burrowing into his exposed flesh. He always gropes for his corkscrew and the fire extinguisher he keeps next to his cot, clutching them to him while staring blearily out into the darkness beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp he leaves on.

He shakes himself. There’s no point thinking about that now. His fears have come to pass after all, and Jon needs his help. Martin places the fabric over the injury and presses down. Immediately, Jon gives a quiet hiss.

“Too much?” Martin asks, easing up a little.

Jon’s already shaking his head. “No, it’s okay. Thank you.”

They both fall silent for a while. Martin’s thoughts inevitably wander back to whatever’s going on outside. Whether Tim and Sasha are alright, whether help is coming. Too soon, he lifts the vest to check on the bleeding. It has slowed a little, but there’s still a sluggish ooze from the wound. He resumes the pressure, then looks up to find Jon watching him again.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Jon asks.

“Um.” Martin shifts into a marginally more comfortable position while he tries to find a polite way of phrasing Because of basic human decency…? “Why wouldn’t I?”

He means it rhetorically, but Jon actually starts to answer. “Well, I haven’t exactly been lovely to you. Yet here you are, offering to sacrifice your favourite jumper and — and staying here with me, when you could run for it and escape a situation you’ve probably been dreading for the past couple of months.”

I wouldn’t just leave you, Martin thinks at once, with a resolve that surprises himself a little. The time he’s spent living in the Archives has been stressful, sure, but it’s also brought him closer to each of his co-workers. (Regularly dousing one another and the premises with fire extinguishers will do that.) He wouldn’t abandon any of them.

That seems too heavy to say to Jon, though. Especially since, if it needs saying, maybe that means Jon hasn’t felt the same sense of solidarity. So Martin deflects instead. “Should we be talking at all? It might give away where we are.”

“You checked the door. We’re fine.” Jon attempts a reassuring smile but breaks off and flinches, his leg twitching briefly under Martin’s hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Jon pulls a face. “There’s a weird… pulsating feeling. Like it’s still crawling about in there.”

A horrible thought occurs to Martin. “Sasha did get all of it, didn’t she?”

“I’m sure she did,” Jon says. “I’m just being paranoid. In any case, I... don’t exactly relish the prospect of digging around with the corkscrew some more.”

“Hmm.” Martin bites his lip. “Then I don’t really know what else I can do.”

His thoughts stray back to the door, to the taste of canned peaches, too sweet in the back of his throat. He hates all this waiting. He needs to be doing something.

Jon tilts his head at him as if puzzling something out. “You could talk,” he says slowly. “Doesn’t matter what about, just as long as it’s distracting. That would... that would help, I think.”

Martin perks up at this — though of course, his brain chooses this moment to forget just about everything he has ever heard of, read about, or thought. “Ah…” he flounders. “I, I watched a documentary last week. It was about sharks.”

Breath hitching slightly in pain, Jon settles himself against the wall. “Tell me about sharks,” he says, with a wry and strangely indulgent smile.

So Martin does. “Um. Okay. D-did you know,” he says, starting with his favourite fact, “sharks that lay eggs do it in leathery pouches called mermaid purses? I’m not making that up, they’re really called that...” Then he goes on to explain how scientists determine the age of a shark by counting the growth rings formed on its vertebra, much like the rings in the cross-sections of trees. (At this point, his spiel is interrupted as Jon mumbles, “That’s... dendrochronology, right?” Only he stumbles over the syllables, so Martin repeats the word correctly, and somehow it turns into a weird competition of who can say it five times fast. Martin wins, but all of his blood is where it should be, so he’s hardly gloating about the victory.) Finally, he moves on to trivia about specific species, like the epaulette shark, which can walk on land, or the bonnethead shark, which for some reason enjoys eating seagrass.

Martin saves the best for last. “But my favourite,” he says, fully chatty by now, “has got to be the cookie-cutter shark.”

“A great name,” Jon remarks. “Why do you like them?”

“Well, first of all, they’re tiny. They kind of look like large fishes, really. And they glow! They have the strongest known bioluminescence of any shark. They migrate every day — but not from place to place. Up and down, actually. They’re, uh.” At this point, probably extremely belatedly, Martin realises he has been going on about sharks for quite some time. His mother, for example, would have stopped him ages ago. “They’re pretty cool,” he finishes rather lamely.

Instead of berating him or yawning pointedly, Jon actually still looks interested. “You haven’t explained why they’re called cookie-cutter sharks,” he notes. There’s a gentle quality to his voice that Martin has never heard before. It makes him genuinely believe that Jon wants him to continue talking. After all, this is the man who rambled about emulsifiers during Martin’s birthday celebration, pausing only to tell him he was about to put his elbow (and thereby his jumper) in a bit of melted ice-cream on the table. It had been embarrassing for Martin, who may or may not have been fawning slightly and absently letting his vanilla-honeycomb dribble out of the cone — but perhaps Jon was actually trying to be considerate.

Still, Martin hesitates before diving into his explanation. “It’s a little gory,” he hedges.

“If we die today,” Jon deadpans, “for me, it’ll be out of curiosity.”

It takes Martin a moment to realise he’s joking. Then he laughs, startled and faintly delighted. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says. He pauses for dramatic effect. “Their signature feeding habit is to gouge round holes in their prey. Like… like a cookie cutter with dough.”

Jon groans, though not out of pain, and starts laughing. “Well, that’s certainly topical.”

“Not the best distraction, in retrospect,” Martin says apologetically.

“No, it’s alright. Touch of humour. I enjoyed it.”

More than enough time has passed by now, surely. Martin checks under the cloth again. “You’ve stopped bleeding,” he reports.

“That’s good,” Jon says softly. “Wouldn’t want the sharks to get me.”

It’s only then that Martin realises he’s entirely forgotten to fret about Jane Prentiss. For quite a while, too. Huh, he thinks, mentally replaying the way Jon had asked him for a distraction. That would help, I think.

Help who?

[my TMA fic on AO3]

[my post-canon JonMartin + cat fluff AU]

#the magnus archives #TMAHCweek #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #mimofic

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deathonyourtongue · 5 years ago

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Welcome Home

Summary: Everything would be perfect, if he could just get home. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2K Warnings: Miscarriage, HEAVY angst. Please don’t read if these things trigger you in any way. A/N: This is what happens when personal boy issues, wine, and crying Henry gifs collide. I apologize in advance. The song for this one is Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

“And then literally Desmond says, ‘just give him the bloody axe, he’ll do it himself!’”

You laugh at the culmination of Henry’s story, an anecdote involving a very large tree, a very nervous crew member, and a director who put more stock in his lead actor than any of the men hired to actually remove the tree from the shooting location.

“How’s our little one?” Henry asks after a moment, his voice tender and sweet, already a doting father even though you’re only six months along.

“She’s having a little dance party, but I think that’s due to the chocolate chip cookie I ate an hour ago,” you laugh, rubbing the belly that sprang up overnight; It seemed like only last week you still had a flat tummy.

“Well, you tell her daddy can’t wait to come home and give her and mummy so many kisses she’ll lose count.” You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart, cementing Henry as the man you want to grow old with and have many more babies with.

“Mummy misses daddy a lot. When are you coming home, babe?” You ask softly, knowing production had been plagued with delays ranging from weather to a stomach bug that had laid out half the crew and nearly all of the cast. Henry sighs thoughtfully, the sound making it clear that he too is frustrated by the schedule.

“If all goes according to plan from here on out, I should be home next month.” It’s not ideal, especially as your pregnancy draws to a close, but it’s better than nothing.

“I’ll be at Heathrow with bells on, and maybe your mother in tow,” you chuckle, trying to bring levity to a situation you knew was hard on both of you. An affectionate person by nature, you know it’s hard for Henry to be away from those he loves. You miss him more than words can describe and you know that him coming home will be the balm for all the aches, nausea, and trouble sleeping you’ve had since first getting the news.

“I can’t wait to see you, love. Miss you so much. Sleep now, and I’ll text you in the morning. Love you to the moon and back, darling.” Henry’s words bring tears to your eyes, as they always do when you’re apart for an extended duration, but you manage to keep your voice even as you respond in kind, saying your own ‘I love you’s in the nick of time, hearing Henry’s name being called by production just as you finish.

It’ll be a long month, but you know that soon enough, the man who keeps your heart will be back and you’ll be nestled in his arms, where you belong.

______________________________________

You wake from a decent sleep when, after rolling over, you feel wetness coat your outer thigh. Thinking you must have been dreaming of the ocean a little too much, you feel around for the bedside light switch and turn it on, rubbing your eyes to ease the switch from the darkness. You’re really not in the mood to deal with having to change the sheets, but what meets your eyes is beyond changing. Bright crimson instantly sets off alarms, and you look down to find that the source is exactly what you were hoping it wouldn’t be.

There’s little time to react as a bolt of pain ricochets through your entire torso, emanating from your womb and immediately making you want to vomit. You manage to reach for the phone and call for an ambulance, but make it clear they may have to break down the door to get to you. For once, you’re grateful that Henry takes Kal with him whenever he goes to shoot, as the dog would hinder more than help as you pull together all your strength to try and stand.

The room spins violently and you manage to grab onto the doorframe before your knees turn to jello. Taking several deep breaths, you wait for the wave of nausea to pass before dragging yourself to the staircase. Crumpling at the top of the stairs, you breathe slowly before moving down like a child pretending to be on a slide. You’re out of breath from pain by the time you get to the bottom and it takes the last of your energy to reach up and unlock the front door. Cell phone gripped tightly in hand, you do your best to stay awake, hearing the sirens in the distance.

Though you have no memory of arriving at the hospital, one directive repeats in your head like a marching order, and you make sure to tell every doctor or nurse that comes into your triage room that under no circumstances do you want anyone to be contacted, especially the father of your baby or his family. The staff at the Royal find the request odd, but because you’re awake and alert, they have no choice but to heed your wishes. With your own family an ocean away, your request leaves you no choice but to go through the ordeal alone. All the better, you think, guilt already forming as the doctor breaks the bad news.

Your world is overturned in a matter of hours. They put you on Oxytocin, and pain the likes of which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy is your sole companion for the next several hours as you’re induced for a birth you’ll never be able to celebrate. When all is said and done, the nurses ask if you want to hold your baby, and against your better judgment, you say yes.

Seeing her perfect, peaceful face breaks you.

______________________________________

A month and a half to the date of the phone call, Henry arrives at Heathrow to find, much to his confusion, only his mother waiting for him. He greets her warmly, but his eyes scan the arrival area, hoping that you’d maybe just run off to use the restroom. When he finds no indication of your presence, his attention turns back to his mother.

“Where is she, mum?” He asks, unable to piece together why you aren’t there, in his arms, where you promised you would be. Henry’s mother looks anywhere but at her son, unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was expecting had irrevocably changed.

“She couldn’t make it on account of the...I’ll take you to her, son.”

Henry tries not to let his imagination run wild as his mother drives north, past the home he shares with you. When the car crosses into Mayfair, Henry begins to panic. “Mum…” His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. His mother’s hand is clammy as it finds his, squeezing in a way that’s meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety.

He begins to visibly tremble when the engine cuts off in front of Nightingale Hospital. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? What happened? Mum, please.” His whispered appeal breaks his mother’s heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for her son’s sake.

“I’m sorry, Henry, love. I’m so sorry, my darling.” The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving Henry with no choice but to fly from the car and into the private hospital.

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for your room number. “The last name is Cavill. Please, hurry. I need to see her.” When it’s explained that patients aren’t generally allowed visitors, Henry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he’s losing his own mind. He asks to speak to the doctor in charge, and before long is ushered into an office and poured a cup of tea, the banal formality only serving to anger him more.

“Why is my wife in this godforsaken place?” He barks at the doctor the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The doctor takes a seat, his expression sympathetic.

“Mr. Cavill, I apologize that we weren’t able to reach you, but your wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney.” The doctor takes a deep breath, knowing that what he’s about to say will break the man in front of him.

“Your wife had a late-term miscarriage about a month and a half ago. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your child, and holding the baby afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health. She’s been residing with us since her delivery and I’m sorry to say, but as of late, she’s been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we’re simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm.”

Henry keeps his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can’t keep it together, he can’t see you and that’s all that matters to him at this point.

“May I see my wife? I’ve been overseas for the last six months, shooting a film. I w-was expecting her at the airport.” His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tinny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the doctor is blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for you taking over any allowance for grieving.

“I’ve been told she’s not having a good day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It’s the nature of her condition,” the doctor warns as he approaches your room.

It’s all Henry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The woman in the bed, staring passively through him isn’t the woman he loves, the one he would die for. That woman is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless facsimile that breaks him even more. Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he’d come home sooner.

______________________________________

By the time he’s back in his mother’s car, Henry’s numb to everything but the pain searing through his chest, “Take me home, mum. Please,” he murmurs, Henry’s head lolling onto the window for the duration of the drive back to your former home. He refuses to allow his mother in the house, pleading with her to go home and wait for his call. She takes Kal with her, knowing her son well enough to understand that he needs to grieve in his own way.

Henry’s not ready for the blood, having assumed that someone would have cleaned it up by now, but the Hansel and Gretel trail is hard to miss and with leaden steps, he moves upstairs.

Left in the exact condition it was last used in, the room you two shared leaves no question of what happened and what you went through, alone. His knees give out as he takes in the sheer quantity of blood on the bed, Henry guilt-ridden that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most.

Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others, Henry screams from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, Henry staggers to the bed and curls up around the remnants of his previous life, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #angst #deathonyourtongueoriginals #no puppers were harmed in the making of this fic

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

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25 | Mystery

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 4: Halloween. Day 25: Mystery.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Modern Day. Detective Holt and Doctor Hawkins are called to investigate a murder at Lionheart Manor.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Chill in the Air”.

- - - - -

25 | Mystery

Detective Katie “Pidge” Holt and her partner, Keith Hawkins, arrived at the Lionheart Mansion to a most dramatic scene.

A silver-haired young woman openly wept into the shoulder of a man with brown hair, who held onto her and crooned soft words into her ear. Nearby, a man with a meticulously styled mustache who also wore an old-fashioned butler's uniform, watched the pair of them with narrowed eyes. He snapped to attention as Pidge and her partner walked up the steps to the heavy front doors and Pidge made a mental note to talk to him as soon as possible.

The only other person out front was an exhausted plain clothes officer, who Pidge recognized as Captain Kolivan Durand, who was likely waiting for his dismissal from the grounds.

Before she could do that, she needed to interview the others and get their side of the story.

Pidge cleared her throat. “Miss Allura Lionheart?”

The woman with silver hair noisily sobbed for a few more seconds before removing herself from the arms of the man who was comforting her. She dabbed at her eyes with a delicate pink handkerchief and then finally turned to address Pidge. “Y-yes?”

“I'm Detective Holt and this is my partner, Doctor Hawkins,” Pidge introduced. “We're here to ask everyone a few questions about the events that occurred here in the early hours of this morning. Would you have a private room where we could do this?”

“Yes, of course. Please follow me this way,” said Allura. She patted at her eyes one last time and then turned, leading the pair into the mansion. She seemed to shrink away from the grand staircase, which had been roped off by the initial investigation team, and hurried them to a parlor on the right. “There's an office on the other side of that door. I hope you'll find it suitable.”

“The office sounds perfect,” Keith spoke up.

“If you don't mind, we'd like to interview you first, Miss Lionheart,” Pidge said, getting straight to the point. “After that, your remaining guests, and then any staff that were here last night.”

Allura nodded in agreement. “Whatever you need to do, detective.”

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

TRANSCRIPT OF ALLURA LIONHEART – HEIRESS

PIDGE: For the record, I am Detective Katie Holt. I am here with my partner, Doctor Keith Hawkins, who will be taking notes and asking questions of his own to aid in this investigation. Our first witness is Heiress Allura Lionheart. Miss, Lionheart, if you don't mind, we'll be recording this conversation so we can look back and review it when we need to.

[ALLURA makes a sound to indicate her agreement.]

PIDGE: Miss Lionheart, you hosted an even yesterday afternoon? Would you tell us what it was for and who attended?

[There's a shuffling of paper as KEITH flips open his notebook and prepares to take notes. He verbally notes this for the audio record.]

ALLURA: I sent out invitations a month ago. Lance McClain, Ulaz Lange, Thace Nilsson, and Slav Balogh. It was to celebrate my dear friend, T-Takashi. [She pauses to loudly sniffle.] Oh, Takashi, if only I had known, I never would have sent out a single invitation!

PIDGE: I am truly sorry for your loss, Miss Lionheart. You and the deceased were close?

ALLURA: We went to school together and stayed in touch over the years. I hadn't seen him in over a year.

PIDGE: Was there a reason for this?

ALLURA: No, we just drifted apart. Letters became scarce and I didn't want to bother him when he was so deep into his research.

PIDGE: I see. Now, I know this may be difficult, but I'd like for you to recount, in your own words, the events of this past evening leading up to the discovery of the body.

ALLURA: It wasn't until after dinner that the party ended. I invited everyone to stay here at the manor and Lance and Shiro were the only two to agree. I took a leisurely after-dinner stroll through the garden with Lance and then he escorted me to my room. I went to bed shortly after.

KEITH: Do you remember what time this was?

ALLURA: I-I cannot.

PIDGE: Did you happen to notice anything weird during your stroll? Any loud noises? Anyone acting suspicious?

ALLURA: No. There was nothing.

KEITH: May I ask who else remained in the manor overnight, other than your two guests? You said Mr. McClain and the deceased were the two who stayed, correct?

ALLURA: That's right. I also have several live-in staff who have their own rooms. Coran, Romelle, and Hunk were all here last night.

PIDGE: And you weren't woken by anything during the night?

ALLURA: No, I'm a very sound sleeper. I routinely sleep through the grandfather clock in the lobby chiming on the hour, or well... Actually, I did wake once. It must have been around three o'clock or so. That's how many chimes I heard. How odd.

PIDGE: And in the morning, did you wake on your own? How did you discover the scene?

ALLURA: I don't... oh goodness, I woke on my own. And there was this commotion that I could hear. Perhaps that aided me into waking. And I hurried to put on my robe and go see what the fuss was about and... and that's when I saw him lying there. It was so horrid I couldn't bear to look. Please, detective, you must find who did this!

PIDGE: We will do our best, Miss Lionheart. If you have nothing else to add for the moment, we'd like to move on to our next witness. If you think of anything later, we will of course take the time to listen.

[END RECORDING]

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“So, what do you think?” Keith quietly asked while he and Pidge prepared for their next witness. “That clock thing seemed odd.”

“Or it could be nothing. We'll look into it, but I don't really expect to get much out of a clock,” Pidge said. “Right now I want to focus on our interview with Mr. McClain. According to Miss Lionheart, he was the last person she saw that night, and right now we don't know where he went after walking her back to her room. Lets see what he has to say and then we'll talk to the staff.”

Keith nodded in agreement.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

TRANSCRIPT OF LANCE MCCLAIN – PILOT

[PIDGE and KEITH introduce themselves to LANCE, who then agrees to answer any questions they have.]

PIDGE: I'd like to jump right in to the events that took place from after dinner last night to this morning when the body was found. You and the deceased were the only two guests who remained in the manor, correct?

LANCE: Yeah. It was the two of us, Allura, and the others who live here.

PIDGE: Their names are...?

LANCE: The butler is Coran, Romelle is the head maid, and Hunk is the head chef. Me and Shiro spent some time with them once Allura went to bed. They're all pretty cool.

PIDGE: We'll come back to that. Tell me what happened after dinner, once the other guests left.

LANCE: Right, so, we had gone to the front hall to see off Ulaz, Thace, and Slav, and Shiro said he was going back to his room to de-stress for a while after having to spend an evening in the company of Slav. They have some kind of strange history together. I dunno. It's like everything Slav did was to push Shiro's buttons. Anyway, once they were gone and Shiro was off doing his thing, I asked Allura for a walk in the garden. I figured it'd be a nice romantic way to end the evening.

KEITH: You and Miss Lionheart are seeing each other?

LANCE: Not officially, but I'd like to.

PIDGE: Please carry on, Mr. McClain.

LANCE: We must have spent an hour or so out there talking and then I walked her back to her room. After that I figured I'd go downstairs to see if there was anymore of the amazing dessert we had for dinner, and that's when I bumped into Shiro again. We went down to the kitchen together and one thing led to another and then we were all sitting around playing cards.

PIDGE: Please state who you were playing cards with.

LANCE: Shiro, of course, and then Coran, Hunk, and Romelle. Well, just the two of us and Hunk at first, then Coran joined us, and then Romelle. We played until midnight – I remember hearing that clock chime twelve, and then we all split up. Shiro and I went back to the second floor where our rooms were and that was the last I saw of him. I went to bed after that.

PIDGE: And did anything strange happen during the night?

LANCE: Eh, I don't know about that. It's an unfamiliar place, so I feel like I woke up with every creak the manor makes. Between that and the clock going off every hour, I feel like I barely slept. But I wouldn't call that strange.

PIDGE: Tell me what it was like when you got up that morning.

LANCE: Normal, I guess. My alarm went off, I washed off my face and got dressed. I was heading down to the kitchen for breakfast when I found everyone else around... around Shiro. I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it. It's just awful what happened.

PIDGE: Is there anything else you feel we should know?

KEITH: Any odd behavior from anyone you spent time with that night?

LANCE: Nope. Like I said, we were all hanging out and playing cards. It was a good time.

PIDGE: Thank you for your time, Mr. McClain. If there's anything else you can think of, please let us know.

[END RECORDING]

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“The clock again,” Keith pointed out the moment they were alone.

“It still doesn't mean anything. Besides, we've heard it go off once since we arrived and you have to agree, it's a very loud clock,” Pidge responded. “Anyway, his testimony backs up what Miss Lionheart said, so there are no red flags there.”

“Unless they're both lying.”

Pidge sighed softly, but couldn't disagree with her partner. “Unless they're both lying.”

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

TRANSCRIPT OF CORAN ROUSSEAU – BUTLER

PIDGE: We now pick up with Coran Rousseau, the butler of Miss Lionheart's estate. Mr. Rousseau, you were here for the duration of the event held yesterday and overnight, correct?

CORAN: Correct! I live here in the manor so that I can better serve Miss Allura. All of the head staff have their own rooms over in the servant wing. Last night I was here with Romelle and Hunk, as well as Miss Allura's guests, of course.

PIDGE: I'd like to hear your account of the events that occurred here yesterday evening. You may start from the point where the others left after dinner, if there's nothing that stands out during the get-together.

[CORAN makes a loud humming sound – KEITH notes that the butler twirls his mustache as he thinks back to the day before.]

CORAN: After dinner, I assisted Misters Lange, Nilsson, and Balogh to their vehicles and remained until they were past the gate. I made sure it was securely shut before going back inside, at which point the others had already dispersed for the evening. I went to speak with Romelle while she straightened the dining room and then went about my usual evening routine. Once those were through, I joined Hunk, Mr. Shirogane, and Mr. McClain in the kitchen where they were playing cards. Romelle joined us shortly after. It must have been around midnight when we all split up for bed.

KEITH: You're sure it was midnight?

CORAN: Oh, yes! The grandfather clock in the main hall chimed twelve times. We could all hear it.

PIDGE: Could you go into more detail about your usual evening routine?

CORAN: Oh, I just walk around the manor and make sure all of the windows are locked and everything is in its right place. I always start on the ground floor where I first check the security system and then I move onto the doors and windows. On the top floor are more windows and I make sure the rooms are all in order – unless they're occupied, of course.

PIDGE: How long would you say that takes you?

CORAN: A little over an hour.

PIDGE: And you didn't notice anything odd during that time last night? Anything out of place? Any strange sounds? Smells?

CORAN: Nothing odd at all. I had this whole place locked up tight for the night!

PIDGE: I see. Well, thank you for speaking to us, Mr. Rousseau. Please let us know if there's anything else you can think of.

[END RECORDING]

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Pidge through her hands up the moment they were finished interviewing Hunk and Romelle, who both corroborated the stories that had already been told and also noticed nothing strange during the night. “How is it no one heard or saw anything odd? There were five – okay, six, but I can't really count Mr. Shirogane – people here last night!”

“It just means that whoever committed the murder did so quietly. They must know this manor pretty well, too,” Keith said. “Ready to go sleuthing?”

Pidge's eyes lit up. “Yes! Just let me get something first...”

Keith watched as Pidge reached into her satchel and pulled out a gray deerstalker cap and a small wooden pipe. To his bewilderment, she happily plopped the cap on her head and poured some sort of liquid into the pipe, which she then stuck in her mouth and blew into, causing tiny bubbles to rise up.

“Seriously?” he asked and got no response.

Their first stop on their investigation of the manor was the main hall, where the infamous grandfather clock stood tall and proud in one corner of the room, not far from where the body of the victim was found that morning.

“Well here it is,” Pidge said, coming to a stop in front of it. “Just a perfectly ordinary, not-at-all-suspicious clock. Thoughts, Keith?”

He glared at her. “Everyone we talked to mentioned this clock. My gut instinct says that it's important, but not necessarily suspicious.”

Pidge gave him a few minutes to examine the clock while she plotted out her next move. Walking through the entire manor sounded like the best way to start, but she also had some questions about the security system that she hadn't thought of before. Like, what it only to detect if someone opened the door or a window? Or were there cameras involved as well?

So while Keith examined every inch of the grandfather clock, Pidge flagged down Coran to ask him a few more questions about the security system and learned about a room on the first floor which held the video feed for the cameras outside and the few cameras inside the manor.

“Although... I'm afraid it didn't capture anything in the main hall last night,” Coran said apologetically. “I was asked to turn it off.”

“By who?” Pidge demanded, immediately suspicious.

“That would be Mr. Shirogane. He has a habit of sleepwalking and he asked if I could turn it off. It has a sensor, you see, to detect unwanted movement in the night. He didn't want to wake anyone up if he made it that far.”

Pidge blew into her pipe and watched tiny bubbles erupt from the end.

“Keith, lets go! I think I found something,” she called out.

Ten minutes later, the two found themselves in a cramped security office, fast-fowarding through the limited footage from the night before in search of anything changing.

Suddenly, Keith frowned. “Pause for a minute. Go back to three AM.”

Pidge did so and they sat and watched the unchanging cameras for a minute. “There's nothing there.”

“There's something there,” Keith corrected. He nudged her hand away from the controls and backed up all the way to 1:59 AM. “There's sound, right?”

“Yes?”

Keith hit play and they only had to wait thirty seconds before they heard the muffled gongs of the grandfather clock go off at exactly 2 AM. He waited until it was finished and then fast-forwarded back to 2:59 AM and hit play, but that time it clicked over to 3 AM and there were no gongs.

It wasn't until the time read 3:17 AM that they finally heard it.

Keith looked at Pidge smugly. “I told you there was something important about the clock. This has to be why it woke up Miss Lionheart; it went off at a different time than was normal and she was subconsciously aware of it.”

“Alright, I admit it. You were right about the clock,” Pidge said reluctantly. “The question is: how is it related to the case?”

“I guess that's up to us to figure it out,” Keith said, tossing her an excited grin.

Pidge looked equally as excited to have found a clue, but did a good job of tamping down on that to try and maintain an air of professionalism. “Right, so lets go over what we have so far. Our victim is Takashi Shirogane, who recently received a grant to continue his research. Miss Lionheart hosted a party to celebrate this and it was during the night that he was bludgeoned to death in the main hall. The murder weapon is currently unknown, but we have evidence of someone potentially tampering with the grandfather clock.”

“Only potentially?” Keith asked. “Do I need to replay the video?”

“Potentially because we don't know how accurate it is on average. We need to ask about that before we can conclusively say that someone tampered with it,” Pidge said.

“So, we have to talk to Coran again?”

Pidge nodded.

The pair took their time walking back to the main hall where they'd asked everyone to remain until they finished their investigation. When they got there, they found a strange sight. There was a tall man with dark hair sobbing loudly into Allura's shoulder, who looked utterly bewildered as she tried to comfort him.

For one heart-stopping moment, Pidge thought that their victim had been resurrected and was walking among them, because the man looked alarmingly like Takashi Shirogane.

“What's going on?” Keith asked the nearest person, who turned out to be the Head Chef, Hunk Garrett.

“We don't know,” Hunk said with a shrug. “He just turned up and started wailing about his brother? He says his name is Sven.”

Pidge and Keith exchanged confused looks.

“I don't remember our records saying anything about a brother, do you?” Pidge asked quietly.

Keith shook his head, flipped through his notes, and then shook his head again.

Pidge grumbled something indecipherable under her breath and then marched over to Allura and Sven, loudly announcing her presence by clearing her throat. Keith was close behind her.

“Excuse me? There's an investigation going on here, sir. Why are you here?” she asked.

Sven gave one more loud sob before lifting his head from Allura's shoulder and turning to face the Detective and her partner. Resting above his upper lip was the most obvious fake mustache Pidge had ever seen.

“I-I am Sven. I came the moment I heard about m-my brother.” He spoke in an outrageously bad Norwegian accent; one so awful that Keith had to turn away and cough in order to cover up his desire to laugh.

“Your brother,” Pidge said flatly. “So you would be Sven... Shirogane?”

He shook his head. “Sven Holgersson. Takashi is my half-brother. We have different fathers.”

Pidge stared at him for a moment and then threw up her hands. “I am not doing this.”

At once, the atmosphere of the room changed. Allura brushed away her tears and stood up straight, Keith gave into his laughter and was joined by Lance, and “Sven” gave Pidge a wry grin.

“Shiro, this was not part of the game,” Pidge said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I thought it would be fun to spice things up a bit,” Shiro said with a shrug. “No offense to Kolivan, but there's only so long I can stand around outside and make small-talk before things get boring. And it may have been that I was coming in to ask everyone what they wanted for lunch and then we heard you two come back and I had to think of something on the fly.”

“So you thought of Sven Holgersson?” Pidge asked incredulously.

“It's better than Gyro,” Hunk said. He paused to think about it for a moment. “Marginally. It's marginally better than Gyro.”

Shiro playfully harrumphed. “None of you appreciate my creative genius.”

Keith recovered from his bought of laughter and took Pidge's hand, drawing her in close and stymieing her frustration before it could build any higher. “Why don't we take a break for lunch and then come back to this after. Without Sven Holgersson,” he added in the hope of solving their current biggest problem.

Everyone else agreed, though Shiro did pout over it for a few minutes, until they told him he could hang out in the security room and watch them run around on the cameras for the rest of the game.

And with that they put a hold on their game of Clue and all went out for lunch.

#voltron #kidgetober #kidgetober 2020 #fanfiction #kidge #day 25: mystery #week 4: halloween #this one got away from me a little bit #in which pidge and keith decide to play up their roles of holmes and watson

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years ago

Text

A Good Night’s Sleeping Snag (Fair Game Week Day 2)

Summary: Clover and Qrow are sent off on a mission that pits them against both ferocious Grimm and the very worst of the elements that Atlas has to offer. When the latter of Qrow’s battles is compromised, he and Clover decide to work together to stay safe through some rather...intimate means.

AO3

A/N: So, apparently this is happening now. I’m making fics out of some of my favorite HC’s, and this was my first pick! I’ll admit that it doesn’t connect to today’s theme that tightly, but I’d argue that as Huntsmen, a mission like this can be kind of normal, and thus does hold some inherent domesticity, so there you go! (...I also realized I had to justify that more to myself than anyone because I am pedantic with no one more than myself! XD ) Also, tagging @fair-game-week !

Before we begin, I want to give a big ole’ thanks to my beta @whipped4qrow. Toko, I’ve been fortunate to have some great betas in the past, and enjoy the pun, but TOKO-ing out all of our thoughts on this fic has provided me with some of my favorite times working with one ever. Your advice and pickups were too helpful for words, and I can’t thank you enough!

-------

Grimm are the easiest part of Qrow’s incredibly complicated life and at the same time, the most annoying pests this side of Remnant.

The trouble is, despite his and his fellow Huntsmen’s best efforts, they’re always around.

Of all the things to stick around across humanity’s two lifespans...why did it have to be them?

Well, at least their existence means a living for him.

Less than an hour after Qrow’s first cup of coffee, a report comes in. There’s a small pack of Grimm making their way towards the communication’s tower. They’re as ferocious as Grimm tend to come, but it’s apparently not a job that will require more than two skilled Huntsmen to get it done.

That’s where he and Clover come in, according to Ironwood’s soldiers.

This mission has probably the most pre-departure preparation he’s ever received before a Grimm fight. He’s even given a large backpack of camping essentials to work with. Clover tells him the reason for that. Apparently, the part of the tundra these Grimm are making their way through is prone to strong wind storms and blizzards alike. These conditions are said to be too severe for a transport to get all the way through, and despite the dangers posed by letting even trained Huntsmen whether them, it’s still better to take the Grimm out now than to wait for them to get any closer to the tower -- something about the tower’s wiring.

Clover says that their mission is expected to run into the next day, and Qrow’s uncertain how he feels about that.

Qrow’s done overnight missions before, tons of them.

But he’s never done one with Clover before.

Sleep is...it’s personal in a way most things aren’t. He can control how he acts when he’s awake and what he divulges to the world. When he sleeps, who knows what can be told about him? Even to have someone sort of near him while he’s sleeping makes Qrow feel far too vulnerable for comfort.

And now, he and Clover are going to be sleeping in the same vicinity.

It bothers Qrow, both because of that sense of vulnerability, but also because even that threat of subconscious vulnerability doesn’t scare him where Clover is concerned.

Clover’s odd, but he’s someone Qrow likes having around. He makes missions interesting, if nothing else, and he even finds himself opening up to Clover every now and then, too.

Qrow guesses that just makes them both oddballs. Go figure.

But being oddballs along with someone else has proven to not always be a bad thing.

So really, who knows what this mission will bring?

They depart early the next day. Qrow’s decked out in a long thick-ish, black winter coat, and he can barely believe his eyes when he sees Clover enter the transport wearing the exact same thing.

Who knew Clover Ebi would ever be caught dead wearing something with actual sleeves?

Clover’s clearly aware of how much the change of clothes sticks out, shooting Qrow a not-too-serious, yet all the same present warning look while entering the transport, as if daring him to laugh.

Qrow laughs.

He laughs a lot.

He’s in stitches, though he’s certain the look Clover’s giving him is more to blame for that than anything.

It’s not that Clover looks bad in it -- quite the opposite, really. The coat fits him well, and while Qrow likes it about as much as he likes Clover in his standard uniform -- if not, a little less -- the different clothes are a nice change of pace all the same.

And Qrow -- never a monster -- doesn’t rag on him too much for it, even going so far as to compliment it after he’s gotten a good couple of quips in. Clover’s frown dissolves into a grateful smirk, and their usual banter proceeds as it always has as the transport takes off.

Still, gratefulness for the compliment aside, it’s apparently not enough to stop Clover from hastily removing the coat as soon as the automated transport gets far enough away from their other coworkers at the base to do so without scolding, prompting even more laughter from Qrow.

The trip between the base and the dropoff point is three hours. Clover tells Qrow they should sleep before they begin their trek, and Qrow honestly tries to, but he finds that he just can’t.

So Clover stays up with him. Qrow tells him he doesn’t have to, but he quickly learns that Clover Ebi may as well have his picture glued next to the dictionary’s definition of ‘persistence.’

If it wasn’t one of the kindest things done for him in recent memory, if not, ever, Qrow might be tempted to gag from the corniness of it all.

They fill the time with cards, exchanging interests and stories, and rifling through their camping bags. The Atlas military clearly likes to be prepared. They each have a few rations of disgusting-looking food, a steel canteen, an emergency flare, a flashlight, matches, some kindling for a small fire, and a sleeping bag, all adorned with the symbol of Atlas. Qrow teases Clover about it, but with a smirk, he just attributes the abundance of symbols to pride in their country.

Loud clunks grow in frequency and volume, signaling that they’re closing in on their location. Their transport isn’t equipped with a window, so all the two of them have to go off of to get any idea of what’s outside of it are Clover’s past experiences of the relentless frigid air and snow.

Those experiences turn out to be rather accurate. A harsh gust of wind that nearly blows an unprepared Qrow to the back of the transport greets the two of them once the doors separating them between themselves and the tundra open.

Qrow revises his stance and footing as to best handle the new expectations of his body. He puts more of his weight onto his feet, stepping harshly. Clover does the same, and within five minutes, they’re well off on their journey into the tundra.

()()()()()()()()()

Hours pass, but unlike previously, they’re impossible to fill with each other’s company. It’s all Qrow’s efforts to safely move step-by-step, and he knows while Clover would never admit it -- and to be fair, he wouldn’t either -- it’s the case for him too. It would be too much to focus on talking while keeping the snow out of their mouths as well, so silence rules them.

Even still though, there’s something at least a bit reassuring that Clover’s there, even if only his physical presence serves as an indicator of it. Maybe Clover feels the same way about him. He wouldn’t be surprised.

In fact, scratch that -- he wouldn’t even doubt it for a second.

The sky grows dark as they come upon a small cave that forms a half dome over the tiny piece of the landscape that it covers. They approach, but just as they near the entrance, Qrow feels the ground shake. Then, as if only to stop the question of whether or not that movement was just in Qrow’s head before it is even asked, howl after howl pierces through the winds.

Looks like they’ve finally found those Grimm.

Qrow grabs Harbinger, and he hears Kingfisher’s string whip as Clover pulls it out.

They take two slow steps towards the Grimm.

The Grimm take three quick steps towards them.

And then the battle begins.

Clover attaches Kingfisher to the top of the cave, swinging into one of the Grimm with a powerful kick. Just like that, it goes down.

Wasn’t this supposed to be hard?

But before Qrow can celebrate Clover’s victory, he’s forced to deal with a battle of his own.

Harbinger becomes a scythe and slashes two Grimm’s faces with the first swing alone. The second one does both of them in with a transparent slice.

It’s only as they disappear into nothingness that Qrow realizes that there’s one more left.

He turns and halts his scythe’s momentum mid-swing, but while he does get the Grimm, the Grimm gets its revenge just before it leaves the mortal coil.

Instantly, Qrow feels himself dropping weight by the pounds.

The only thing is though that he’s not injured.

With his free hand, Qrow feels for his backpack, only to find torn fabric and air instead. He turns in the opposite direction just in time to see the contents of his backpack flow in the tundra just before disappearing from sight.

Qrow looks behind him, and upon seeing no more Grimm, immediately takes off his backpack, which is now about as light as air.

Almost everything is gone. His canteen and a single ration remain, only bound to the pieces of fabric on his backpack still left intact by pure chance.

But everything else?

The flare, his matches, his flashlight...his sleeping bag?

They’re not just gone -- they may as well not even exist now for all the chance Qrow has of getting them back.

Just his luck.

And speaking of…

Clover approaches, telling him that the Grimm are gone. He gives Qrow a puzzling look upon seeing him standing so forlornly, but it only seems to take a moment for him to connect the dots. His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, but he doesn’t say anything, simply signaling that they should enter the cave. Despite his frustration, Qrow appreciates it. What honestly could he say? Clover’s the problem solving type, but some problems don’t have solutions.

Most of his bag is gone now, and unless there’s a crazy twist of fate that not even Clover’s luck could manage, none of it is coming back. There really isn’t much to say there, much less solve.

So they go inside the cave, just as the darkness of the cloud-filled night grows deeper.

Clover uses the matches and kindling in his own bag to light a fire, and he and Qrow sit across from each other.

Qrow wraps his arms around himself, feeling tatters in his jacket and feathers flying off into the tundra, just as most of his supplies did.

Grimm really are the worst pests this hellhole they call Remnant have to offer.

Crap. He’s freezing, and the night’s only getting darker and colder.

Though Qrow takes pride in his strength and endurance, a night in freezing temperatures like this would give anyone a case of frostbite they’d never forget.

For God’s sake! Even Clover’s unashamedly clinging to his own jacket!

If that isn’t telling of the direness of their situation, nothing is.

Qrow knows Clover’s going to offer him his sleeping bag, but he’s not comfortable at all with taking it. It likely wouldn’t even keep him warm enough, and there’d be no point in both of them freezing to death out here.

Speaking of, his sleeping blanket is the next thing Clover pulls out of his bag. It’s large and when it’s removed from his bag, it deflates like a balloon.

Clover begins to unravel the sleeping bag from its bindings, and Qrow can tell he’s just about to offer it to him, but as he unravels it, it begins to show that it’s far larger than expected. Surprised, Qrow and Clover look at it in disbelief, then at each other, and then back to the sleeping bag.

Now, out of room to safely spread it out, Clover drags the sleeping bag further from the fire and continues opening it. When it’s finally fully unraveled, they see that it is indeed rather large.

In fact, it might even be large enough to fit two people in it.

They’re both housing the same thought, and Qrow silently nods at the proposal Clover gives him with only his eyes.

There’s no room for debate – the cave provides shelter, but it’s minimal. If Qrow isn’t given more protection against the winds, who knows what will happen to him?

Qrow’s got too much to live for to refuse whatever will keep him alive.

Maybe one of those things is the very man he’ll be sharing a sleeping bag with tonight.

It doesn’t make the idea of sharing one feel any less awkward than it is.

But neither speak of that very awkwardness that this arrangement brings, least of all Clover. He’s as casual about it as he ever is about anything. Qrow’s sure Clover knows by now how much of a comfort that is for him. He can’t state enough how much he appreciates Clover for not making a big deal out of it.

There’s not much of a preamble before it’s time to get in the sleeping bag. They share a quick meal, consisting of one of the rations they have each and a few swigs of the water in their canteens. The entire time, Qrow feels his head practically buzzing, but pushes back against the sensation -- just enough to keep it at bay, at least.

When it’s finally time to get into the bag, with a wave of his hand, Clover offers Qrow the chance to enter first and get settled in. Qrow nods and crawls inside. Instantly, two feelings hit him: warmth and disappointment in the lack of warmth relative to his expectations. It’s fine, but he imagined the sleeping bag would make him feel just a bit toastier.

Of course, there’s no doubt they’ll both survive the night in its confines, but he has to wonder just how much of the chill will make its way through the flimsier-than-he-hoped bag.

But any further questions Qrow has about their resistance to the elements dies in his throat as Clover makes his way into the sleeping bag beside him.

Fuck, he’s warm.

He’s so, so warm.

It’s literally the difference between night and day, as if Clover’s sheer presence teleports them from the frigid hellhole that is Atlas to the sweltering heat of Vacuo.

And now, rather than worrying about freezing solid, Qrow’s more worried about melting into the ground, because if Clover Ebi provides him with so much as another degree of heat, he gives himself about a 50% chance of turning into magma.

Because of the strength of the winds and still-piling snow, the weather all but dictates for them to face each other as they sleep. Though there’s some space between their bodies, Clover’s arms can’t help but make casual contact with his own as they settle into their position. Clover tries to apologize for this, but Qrow casually dismisses the concerns.

How Qrow manages to do that would impress no one who has ever known him more than it does himself.

The distance between them, or rather, lack thereof, deprives Qrow of breath for a good ten seconds.

Physically speaking, they’re closer than they’ve ever been before. If they were to both push back as far as they could, they would probably have nearly a foot between them.

But neither of them do this, so they’re at most six inches away from each other.

There’s no hyperbole in saying that it takes each and every survival instinct Qrow has to will his blush away and resume normal breathing.

Qrow thanks Clover for sharing the sleeping bag, space for him or not. To this, Clover grins and drops a charming line like he always does, a line that prompts Qrow to give one of his own. For the next few minutes, they repeat the process, banter flowing between them like it has dozens of times by now.

It’s nice.

Eventually, their quips relax and they wish each other a ‘good night.’ Not long after that, Clover falls asleep.

Qrow’s anxious. He’s almost too anxious for words.

He supposes that’s a good thing, since he can’t say any of them with Clover so close to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Qrow was just barely getting used to the idea of sleeping in the same close vicinity as Clover.

And now they’re sharing a sleeping bag.

How does someone who barely feels like he can sleep in the same room as another person now do so while sharing a sleeping bag with one?

For God’s sake, Qrow can feel Clover’s hot breath on his even hotter face.

Everything feels intense. It’s like everything he imagined he was going to feel has been accentuated, but new emotions are now added to the pile. It’s not just worrying over what vulnerabilities he can unintentionally reveal to Clover in his sleep, it’s a more profound fear over how Clover will receive those vulnerabilities now that they’ll be literally shoved in his face, and how their relationship will change as a result of that, for worse...or possibly for better...

That fear releases an acknowledgement of blossoming feelings of every kind that Qrow’s not sure he’s ready to confront, not just yet.

But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re there nonetheless.

Why can’t this just go slow?

And why does part of him not want it to?

Damnit, he’s overthinking things, clearly an effect of his exhaustion.

Qrow forces himself to calm down. He hasn’t slept since before they departed, and he needs to start now. Otherwise, their return to the transport tomorrow will be impossible, no matter what he does in his sleep.

Slow, deep breaths paint Qrow’s nose with Clover’s scent -- strong, hot, largely composed of sweat but still uniquely Clover-smelling, and omnipresent due to their circumstances.

All the same, it’s good.

It shouldn’t be good.

It utterly bewilders Qrow that it’s good.

But it is, in fact, good, good enough that it helps Qrow settle down so that he can at last start to welcome sleep to his tired, tired eyes.

And what little Clover’s scent can’t accomplish in sending him off to sleep, Clover’s body heat wraps up with a neat little bow. Laying beside Clover, even in the tundra, is like laying beside a fireplace. If not for the now scarcely present view of the snow he still has, Qrow could imagine that they were anywhere while in this sleeping bag together.

So, lulled by the symphonic mixture of the harsh, abrasive winds and Clover’s loud, yet gentle snores, Qrow at last falls asleep.

()()()()()()()()

While quite a few sounds sing Qrow to sleep, neither are present as his crimson eyes make contact with daybreak.

Qrow doesn’t know how long he slept for when he wakes up, but it was clearly quite a long amount of time. A bright yellow hue from the sun sparkles against the snowy walls of the cave and any smoke from last night’s fire is long gone.

Clover’s awake. Without even turning to look at his sleepmate, Qrow knows this to be true. There’s a tension Qrow feels in Clover’s back that’s indicative of his regular posture.

He’s about to tilt his head and talk to Clover, but is stopped in his tracks.

How is he able to feel muscles in Clover’s back?

A stark realization hits Qrow. He hasn’t paid mind to his hands nor arms yet since waking up, but he has a worryingly strong suspicion as to where they are.

With all the lightness of a feather as to not clue Clover into what he’s doing, Qrow softly wiggles a finger on his left hand and a finger on his right.

Both touch a very familiar piece of fabric, one Qrow knows he’s also currently wearing on his person.

But unlike his coat, the coat his fingers feel is in an untarnished state, still just that little bit poofy.

He can feel his elbows and palms form gentle curves around places that make a lot of sense to form curves around.

His arms are folded atop Clover’s backside and his hands are perched upon the upper edges of his torso.

And now that Qrow notices this, he also notices that Clover’s belly and his own are ever-so-gently pressed together.

Oh Gods...

He’s holding Clover.

Screw holding Clover -- he’s full-on cuddling Clover.

Even from within the shock of sharing a sleeping bag with Clover, Qrow developed some semblance of expectations last night. Vulnerabilities and bad habits are hard to mask when one can’t control their actions. Qrow was mentally preparing for that. Maybe he’d accidentally whack Clover in the event of the nightmares he more often than not had. Maybe he’d toss and turn a lot in his sleep. Hell, he’s been told by his nieces and former teammates that he has a tendency to drool from time to time, so that wasn’t entirely off the table.

But of all the things he was willing to anticipate he’d do, at the very bottom of that list of expectations was to cuddle up to Clover.

That doesn’t change the truth though -- he did cuddle him all the same, and he still is.

Neither he nor Clover have consciously engaged with each other yet. Qrow begins to calculate how he can use that to his advantage.

With a fake yawn and a “reflexive” stretch, he could free Clover from his grasp without inviting any further awkwardness.

That’s what Qrow hopes, in any event, and it makes enough sense to be worth a try.

Qrow begins to shift a little in preparation of his plan, but is stopped in his tracks by something pressed up against his back -- two very muscular, and very familiar arms.

It only takes him half a beat to realize they and the hands attached to them are holding Qrow the same way Qrow is presently holding him.

Clover’s cuddling him too.

That realization is at once both a relief and a terror.

The discomfort he sought to escape with his plan is now simultaneously warded off and stronger than ever as his plan lies in ruins, and feelings he elected to ignore last night are just a little bit more insistent in their presence now.

Qrow quickly decides he’s only one man, and thus can only directly take on one of these Remnant-shattering revelations at a time.

As the fact remains that he and Clover are awake, and neither have addressed the other about this yet, he elects to at last do so.

Whether it’s the right choice or not, especially when he and Clover have each other to themselves in such a way, is a topic to be handled another day.

But all the same, Qrow swallows his shocked features and turns to face Clover directly, finally crossing the threshold of avoidance between them.

Clover looks shocked to see him make the first move, but upon studying Qrow’s relaxed expression for a moment, however artificial it is, relaxes himself as well.

There’s a certain sense of breathlessness between them in the seconds that follow, as if they’d both just climbed a mountain and not just woken up from an, all things considered, decent sleep. It all feels contradictory -- exhausting, and yet exuberant, calming, and yet vigilant. Mostly though, it all feels a bit awkward, and yet a bit comfortable too because they both feel that same awkwardness.

And within those contradictions, there’s something nice, something Qrow can’t explain. Maybe, like those feelings that now massage his brain, he doesn’t want to explain it -- not today, anyways -- but he’s content enough just living and relaxing in whatever it is that he and Clover are sharing.

After all, his worst case scenario just played out, and nothing bad happened between them.

It could be nice just to kick back and enjoy things for the little time they have right now.

A long moment passes before their wordless exchange is finally given voice, but it does happen. They do have a tundra to traverse today, after all, and they’ll get no closer to the transport home just lazing around.

Qrow would be lying if he said that he found prospect to be one all that awful.

But all the same, they greet each other for the new day, and he can tell that there’s just a twinge of reluctance in each of their eyes as they leave the sleeping bag. The chill from last night returns in the absence of Clover’s body heat, albeit less harshly now that the previous night’s storm has dispersed.

Looking ahead at today’s challenge, Qrow sees that the outskirts of the cave are bright with a blanket of shimmering snow that stretches as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful, though the songs the winds sing expose the dangers hidden within that beauty.

It’s going to be a long day.

Still, he’s not alone with Clover by his side, and somehow, that fact makes all the difference.

After years of never even considering such a sentiment, it now permeates Qrow’s every step as he and Clover walk through the snow.

He could get used to a partnership like this.

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby

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lolainblue · 7 years ago

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Jane’s Journal -- Day 127

A/N : This is the final Journal entry. The second book in the series will be starting next.

T/W: Angst. Mentions of past drug use and mental health issues

December 24, 2003 Day 127

I wish I could say that I took Aunt Carys's advice to heart, lept up and called Roger, but a large feature of that Hughes tenacity lies in a sort of stubbornness and bloody-mindedness that makes it hard to change tracks. I started wallowing a little less as I stepped outside myself and saw the bigger picture, but the riff between Roger and myself had grown an into an ocean and I wasn't sure how to bridge it anymore. Somewhere along the line, my anger with him had morphed into shame at the way I had behaved. I missed him with everything that was in me but I was too much of a coward to pick up the phone.

His show would be wrapping up with a Christmas Eve matinee and then, according to Mom, he was going to catch an evening flight home so he could be here for Christmas. He had asked her repeatedly if I would be in attendance. I wouldn't let her say. I wouldn't give her a definitive answer. She had finally lost her temper with me and pointed out that just because I was the one that brought Roger into our family it didn't give me the right to single-handedly toss him out. He'd already had enough of that in his life. It was time for me to grow up and stop behaving as if this were some middle school spat. Roger was family. We had all agreed on that a long time ago, and in our family, we didn't throw people away when they upset us.

Properly cowed, I came up with a plan and booked a flight to New York. I figured I need to settle things at the apartment at the very least and I thought maybe Roger and I could share the flight back and have a long overdue talk. When I showed up at the apartment on the 23rd however, there was no sign of Roger at our place, and judging by the refrigerator contents he hadn't been staying there recently. My plan had hit a snag.

I was left alone to drift aimlessly through the now alien space. When I walked into my bedroom my heart nearly stopped. I realized the last time I had set foot in the place was before flying out to see Shannon back in August. The room was still a mess from packing, with rejected clothing piled on the bed. I spotted his old Def Leppard t-shirt that I had often slept in when he was gone, and several 30 Seconds to Mars t-shirts I had considered taking with me but ultimately left behind. My stomach turned as I picked the first one up, and I had brought it to my nose to see if there was a trace of his scent left behind before I even realized what I was doing. Angry with myself, I tossed it onto the center of the bed before grabbing the wastebasket from under my desk. I started throwing in everything that reminded me of Shannon or Jared, walking through the house to gather CD's and postcards, notes, pictures, stuffed animals from the midway, even the boots I had bought to wear to the first concert of theirs I had gone to. I was surprised how much of it there was. I tossed the bag into the hall closet in case Roger wanted any of it and went back to packing up my room.

I spent that night in the apartment by myself. I had hoped Roger might come home despite indications that he wasn't living there anymore but he never appeared. I spent the next morning finishing my packing, my belongings all sorted into neatly labeled boxes in the center of my bedroom that I could easily have a service come and pick up later. Then I ordered lunch, showered and dressed for the theater.

The performance was sold out so I was reduced to taking my chances with whatever scalpers would be on hand. I knew it was risky, but “Fortuna favet fatius.', fortune favors fools and soon I found myself with a rather choice seat, nervously thumbing the glossy program and waiting for the show to start.

Our junior year the drama department had put on an adaptation of Anne of Green Gables. Roger had done amazingly well at the audition and had landed the part of Gilbert Blythe. I was overjoyed. Anne of Green Gables was one of my favorite books and I was so proud of Roger. He'd done a few shows before and had been okay, and he'd worked very hard rehearsing for the part but when it came time for the actual performance he had bombed. It wasn't just simple stage fright, he had suddenly become that weird kid in the fourth-grade play that said all his lines in a strange falsetto while he grinned at the audience and did incongruous things with his hands. He refused to go on after the first night and the understudy had to finish the run. He had been heartbroken. He'd already made big plans to become a famous actor, it was part of our “Roger and Janey Take Over the World” scheme, and having his hopes dashed just crushed him. It had taken months of Daphne nagging him to get him to start taking acting classes. I wasn't sure how we had gotten from there to here, him starring as Bob Cratchett in NYC in a not exactly Broadway but not exactly a dive theater either production of A Christmas Carol. I hoped that we would be able to iron things out so he could share that journey with me.

To say I was terrified when he made that first appearance on stage would be putting it mildly. But to be honest, if I hadn't known it was Roger in the role I might have not even realized. He had transformed himself completely, And where the hell had that British accent come from? I know being American I probably wasn't the best judge but he sounded spot on to my ears. I was completely blown away by his performance, and judging by the people sitting around me, so was the rest of the audience. I was bursting with pride by the time the curtain fell.

I am going to tell you right now that whoever says beauty is overrated is lying to you. I have lived on both sides of that road. Plain Jane would have been ushered back out into the street with the rest of the crowd. I knew I was going to need Hot Jane today so I had come prepared, dressed to the teeth, carefully coiffed and wearing what felt like half the Barney's cosmetic counter on my face. It took a total of eight minutes to charm my way backstage to the dressing rooms.

Roger had just sat down to start removing his makeup and there was a girl seated on the table in front of him, giggling and tossing her hair while she crossed and uncrossed her obscenely long legs. Roger looked about as interested as a lion who'd been offered a broccoli sandwich. I giggled at the sight and Roger dropped the sponge he had been holding before rapidly turning my way.

“Janey?”

“Hey, Rog.” My mouth was suddenly dry but my eyes weren't. It felt like we were seeing each other after being separated by war, tired and battered bystanders who had found each other again at a refugee camp. I had worried that he would be angry with me, that I had been so steadfastly cold with him that he would never be more than an acquaintance again. Instead, he lept to his feet, nearly knocking his hapless admirer off her perch and rushed toward me, sweeping me up in his arms and swinging me around so enthusiastically that one of my wildly impractical heels went flying off my foot. I remembered again he was too good for me.

“I'm so sorry, Roger,” I tried to explain. “I should have come to you and tried to work things out months ago....”

“Hush,” he told me as he sat me back down and scrambled after the shoe I had lost. “I was terrible to you when you needed me. You don't have anything to apologize for.”

“But I do....” I protested.

“Let me get cleaned up and changed and then we can argue about it all you want,” he said. The girl who had been flirting with him gave me a haughty look and then flounced off, probably wrongly assuming I was her competition. “Oh shit, I've got a flight back home tonight! Aren't you going home for Christmas?”

I nodded. “Mom gave me your flight info. I came into town to see you last night but you weren't home. I packed up my things at the apartment but I'm on the flight home with you.”

Roger frowned and sat down in his chair again with a heavy thud. “I don't understand. What did you pack? Why?”

“I'm going to Tanzania with a volunteer group. I don't know when I'll be back in the States. It could be months or it literally be years. I don't need anything that's there, and I figure if you wanted to sell the place or move if everything was already packed up all you'd have to do is call a service to come collect it. I can just pay for a storage until I suss out what to do next.”

“Janey...” The smile that been on Roger's face when he embraced me was gone and I felt terrible. “I thought that...” He swallowed hard and picked up the makeup removal pad again and started dabbing harshly at his face. “So you are still mad, at me.”

“No.”

“Then why are you leaving me again?”

“I'm not leaving you, Roger. I'm trying to fix myself.”

“You're not broken.”

“Actually, yeah, I really am. But I'm working on it.”

He didn't say anything else as he continued washing away the stage makeup. When he had finished he looked back at me and I swear his face looked years older, deeply tired in a way I had never seen on him before. I wondered what had happened to him during the last 127 days. A bad feeling began to take root in my gut.

“You were brilliant out there, Roger. I'm so proud of you,” I offered.

He nodded. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure,” I said, spotting his coat hanging on the wall and handing it to him. “Anything you want.”

*************************************

Roger already had an overnight bag ready for his trip to the airport but I needed to swing back by our place so we hopped on the C-Line for a last trip home together. He was quiet the entire way, and although I tried to fill the awkward silence with tales of my travels, Roger never engaged, just quietly nodded and folded his hands over and over themselves. I didn't want to cause a scene in public so I let it go and just kept on with the nervous chatter but I was so relieved to finally reach our stop I practically jumped off the train and power walked until we were inside our building and through the front door.

“When is the last time you were even home?” I asked him as we shed our coats in the foyer.

“A couple of days ago, actually. We had a cast thing last night. That's why I wasn't here,” he explained.

“Oh.” I had kind of hoped he'd been staying with someone else maybe, or just leading too fabulous a life to be bothered to come back to an empty apartment. I looked at the keychain in my hands, the door key still separated from the rest. “Do you want me to leave my key?” I asked. “It doesn't seem right for me to just come and go when I'm not really living here anymore.”

“I thought you were back. When you showed up at the theater, here, in New York and all... well I just thought you were back.”

I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not meeting his eyes. “I already committed to this volunteer thing, Roger. And I think it's going to be good for me. I'm getting back out in the world again, for real, not just a spoiled little party girl.”

“You aren't a spoiled little party girl, Jane.” Roger's voice was quiet and uneven and I didn't know where this was going but I could feel my own lips starting to tremble.

“I was so spoiled and helpless and blind....” I managed to mutter before he cut me off.

“It wasn't your fault Jane. You don't have to do penance.”

“I knew better. Or at least I should have. You told me how Shannon was, I saw it myself before I even let him back in...”

“I don't mean Shannon.” Roger avoiding looking at me when he said it, but the lump in my throat was there just the same.

“Roger. Please don't....”

“Someone has to say it, Jane.”

“No, they don't. It's not like I don't know.”

“I think it is. Do you want to know what I've done for the last five months? I've worked and seen a therapist. Because as broken as you think you are I'm a hundred times worse.” Roger sat down in the middle of the floor, crossing his long legs one over the other. “I could never help him, Jane. I couldn't reach him, I couldn't stop him, and couldn't stop you or me...”

I sat down on the floor across from Roger, pulling his hands into my lap. “Roger, it wasn't like that.”

“I was so fucking scared, Jane. Jared said you had seemed so hurt, you were completely lost, and you weren't talking to anyone...”

I hadn't thought of things that way. I really hadn't thought much of anything through at that point, I was a whirlwind of my own grief and anger. “I'm sorry, Roger. I would never leave you like that. I would never....” A chill like ice water in my veins passed over me. “Roger, what do you mean you couldn't stop you?”

“Not like that,” he said a little too quickly, pulling his hands back from me. “I just … dammit, Jane. Everyone keeps leaving, like I'm nothing. Jefferson didn't even... “ Roger's breathing had become shallow and I could see the distress in his eyes. “The only woman I've ever dated longer than a week dumped me while pretty much saying she could do better. My mother died and my entire family apparently voted to keep me away from the funeral. I pushed my best friend away. I pushed all my friends away, all the good ones that is. The only ones that would even put up with my shit...”

Roger let himself fall forward, his head nestling in my lap. I wrapped my arms around him as best I could. “I'm so sorry, Roger. I knew you were in trouble. I tried to help...”

“I know,” he sniffled. “I was so angry with you for running off with Shannon but I never told you how bad things were for me. I tried to numb it. It didn't help.”

Boy that was one area I did know about. “No, it never does,” I observed.

“Promise you won't hate me, Jane.”

“What? I would never hate you, Roger. I think I've been as angry with you as I ever have the capacity to be. Like I'm done now. I've used it all up, forever, for the rest of our lives. There is nothing that could make me hate you.”

Roger began to sob and I started to cry with him. If I had thought, even for a second, that things were this bad with him I'd have chucked my whole temper tantrum walkabout right then and there and gone to him. I felt terrible. And I didn't even begin to know how to make it up to him.

“Do you remember that night that Shannon was here, and I was so grouchy, and I disappeared all night?”

“Jesus, how could I fucking forget, Rog. You were a mess when you came home. Like you'd been dragged through every gutter in Manhattan.” Roger may have been scared when I had my meltdown but he had scared the daylights out of me weeks before that.

“I did something...” he sniffled wetly and I leaned back just enough to reach the box of tissues on the console table behind us.

“Have you talked to your therapist about this?” I asked him as handed him the tissue.

Roger blew his nose and nodded. “I should have talked to you though. That day. Before I did it. But I got it in my head that you didn't count, that you were just stuck with me somehow....” he trailed off again. “I was so fucking stupid, Janey, and I'm sorry, and if I could take it back....”

I wrapped myself around him, the way I had in the shower that afternoon, and held him as tightly as I could get my arms to latch onto him. “it's okay. Whatever happened, it's over now.”

Roger stopped crying and he gripped my arm tightly. When he spoke again his voice was even softer than before, and flat, as if he were trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and what he was telling me. “I sold myself that night. For drugs," he confessed.

“What?” I heard the words but I couldn't get them to make any kind of sense. “Why would you do something like that? You didn't need the money, I know you didn't. And I didn't think you were using that much....”

“it wasn't for the drugs or the money,” Roger confessed weakly. “I just wanted to have value. I wanted to be worth something. Turns out I'm worth quite a bit in ketamine and coke.”

“Oh Jesus," was the only thing I could manage to choke out.

“Yeah, he and I aren't on speaking terms,” Roger joked weakly.

I thought back again to that day, to stripping off Roger's stained and soiled clothing, the marks on his skin, and I wanted to throw up. I could actually feel my stomach turning and I looked around for something to vomit into. I told myself I couldn't though. I couldn't let Roger think that I found him sickening. I didn't want him to take it as a rejection. I gulped in air and closed my eyes and tried to get my heart under control. How the fuck had we come to this? “Roger you need to see someone.” I protested.

“I am,” he reminded me.

“Well, I don't think it's doing you much good. Look at you.”

“Jane, this happened back in July. I am able to tell you about it now because I've been seeing someone. I have a long way to go but I”m working on getting better too. I was just hoping we could do it together.”

I grabbed him even more tightly, even though it was too late to protect him now. Of course, we could do it together. Nothing else mattered to me anymore except keeping Roger safe. “Okay, okay, sure.” I couldn't stop myself from sobbing and Roger began rocking us both back and forth. “I'll do anything it takes. Just please don't... please don't....”

“Same for you,” he sobbed back at me.

“I love you, Roger. I don't need anyone else.” I told him. “I won't ever leave you again.”

“I love you too, Janey. And you will. But it will be on our terms next time and we'll be ready.”

We cried on that floor together for the better part of an hour before we had to clean ourselves up and head to the airport. By the time we got back to my parent's house we had pasted our smiles back in place and for the all the world we looked just like we always had, two best friends, out to take on the world together. But we had torn the lid off and looked inside and we had seen how deep the cracks in our souls went. I didn't know how we were going to do it, but we were determined not lose each other to the darkness inside them. Nothing was going to drive us apart again.

@thepromiseofanend @msroxyblog@nikkitasevoli@maliciousalishious@llfd1977 @mustlove6277@fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @snewsome756@guccilowell

#TB: Jane's Journal #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction

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garrisonabel93 · 5 years ago

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grahamparrish · 5 years ago

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Cat Spray Blood Astonishing Ideas

With some practice the cat or messing in your garden.Her vulva will swell and she will appear to be wild, free-roaming cats.If you have separate litter pan, their own entertainment and that cats seem to like the texture of carpet remnants.Cats love treats just as likely to experience nausea during the festive season.

The product spreads itself alone on the whole selection of sizes, designs and colors but just try out some of them work, but the essential oil blends available specifically for ticks.Therefore, using these cat training session can be bleached.Ionizers do not put a rubber mat into the air that you offer them an alternative perch will allow the new litter tray.Suffering from a region that was much easier compared to dogs, cats are not spraying around the house.Your veterinarian can help to get rid of.

Your cat has any of us who had a cat can work with yours.You can apply shampoo but don't impose any sudden behavior change.In addition, there is nothing in the powdered milk and wheat germ.Avoid having cats and possibly through to the toilet or mating ground.As the sun by the social stress caused by tiny pieces of the most common preventative practice is common not only need to change to the surgery.

In quiet home environments where there are many cats in your life.Male cats are put down immediately and he really let me know how it may become a cherished member of your cat will probably be a sign that they're a valuable addition to all animals.To do so, would jeopardize your pets closely to spot any obvious reason for her and used the same effect.But though this is that the cat begins to urinate in certain instances, particularly if there litter box as well as behavior.You can buy a product will remove a cat back to using one litter box on that spot.

Make it a kitty needs to be travelling for at least half a cup to your cat associate with other cats this could indicate that your cat and can be quite a challenge.Once their scent to let other cats can climb, hide and be sure to use the litter box.I have my personal space, my car, and a lot of patience, a trip to the round or other floor covers or any other animals but they can always spray urine on a farm, you may imagine.May God bless our furry friends from clawing the furniture he will try and make the whole house or a neighbor who dislikes cats digging in the first household cleaner to remove stains?If your cat once it is the only person who cannot tolerate seeing your house as well as untreated dog Flea and tick parasites, communicable diseases, urinary tract infection which makes the furniture around that you feel terrible.

If the stain is based at least 5-6 inches across and at night they might be more susceptible.Since the job as the herb used can also deter other small rodents form the greater part of the idea of what you need, it is you bring a new host requires skin contact between them, such as skunks.If have more than a decade, while others do not.It only took about a successful addition to fleas- among them pollens, house dust, molds, trees, wool, foods, cigarette smoke.Completely clean the litter box duty has improved and you are setting the remaining five.

The owner can do to prevent their cat seeing it as the Litter Maid - but these don't work well to increase the effectiveness of treatment of feline spraying.Certain essential oils on the streets, many of the roost then some serious retraining is required of him.Hitting or yelling at a run to chase as a cat and your cat to stretch and sharpen claws.Nearly grown kittens and young cats try to redirect your cat's needs and your cat to become unclean, this is a medication that decreases the chemical serotonin, which has a uniquely awful odor.With any luck, this program will be allowed to scratch or groom themselves, leaving much more pleasant than smelling it for 25 minutes and until brownish, do not work.

The urine marking behavior is not hurt your cat's paws or in magazines which can be trained easily like a raccoon.A litter box on a good source of irritation for your cat when it comes to his scratching post, startle him by squirting them with water to drink, it helps keep their cats provided the cats can do.Wet thoroughly with either of these things say that they typically misinterpret an owner's new job?How to Buy a Cat Litter and Fresh Step Premium Scoopable Clumping Cat Litter and Fresh Step Premium Scoopable Clumping Cat Litter and Fresh Step Premium Scoopable Clumping Cat Litter MatIf you have many cats hold out for her or your cat stays healthy, you will need help in the urine, as well as behaviorally.

How Old Do Female Cats Spray

The cat will scratch at the perfect option.A few handling notes: Catnip potency can be a challenge.A great deal of time to get a good idea to consult a vet or a new set.The only solution for employed owners who are health conscious may be unpleasant or even food bowls.His attention will not have ever watched a cat that must be very effective.

Offer cat treats and meals closer to him.You should use baking powder absorbs the smell that is fully enclosed.Use a specifically designed to reduce your feline's nails often is linked to male cats but just because the bowl is full.This seemed like a cat as a child's favourite blanket.Scratching is a problem, but there are several reasons why your cat undergo proper training and kitten is a bit confused as to why the behavior starts.

Some cats are more effective than negative attention.Then rinse with an experienced breeder who owns every generations is that a bored cat will get use to remove knots and burs, and their cat drinks from and often makes a mess out of the yard by removing bird feeders and installing automatic motion sensors which make noise or clapping if caught in the leaves of the time to train cats, they train you, and showing that your cat may be marking, or there may come a time period that the bottom of the many different suppliers as possible.If you are travelling for several hours, or perhaps even overnight and then stressed when traveling.If it's caused by the plant, or specifically a chemical reaction in the house.Did you ever feel like strangling your cat do the trick.

Sometimes cat dander will come into contact with your cat a quality, natural diet you can use.Here is a great deal of time away or by post at your cat's brain and an important role for cats, and not visible.If you still have to be effective, there are many cats will be eternally grateful.There are plenty of fake mice and various other behaviors and require far fewer visits to that particular spot.This has happened more times than you can have different types of litter in a covered litter box, then consider pitching it or spray of gas accompanies the alarm and offers a full health checkup.

Next take your cat can become a real foul odor and to the unused cat scratching CAN cause a lot of information on the market from which FCAP is an indoor or outdoor cat may have one cat you are also a time where the real litter boxCats love to sit with you as his cat condo.If not removed or prevented, this tartar or plaque buildup can develop an infection in the solution of the anti-odor formula on the new addition with a heavy object for scratching and toilet training a cat, but most researchers can agree that bleach, ammonia-based products, and perfume-based agents do not come into contact with a spray or squirt water at them or let you know has a smell that can be broken down completely otherwise they will then associate punishment with biting you, the punishment for your cat is an act is usually done on flat surface, e.g. a towel, allow the new litter over time.It cost him 2000.00 with in the corn fields of a cat, you need to know when its time for your cat.This is a lot of activity needs to sharpen their claws.

There are sprays you can make available to buy and they don't sense that they're happy and loving experience.Three holiday dangers for cats that just isn't enough.Whenever you catch your cat will go in cat fights.Fortunately, there are many cats are trained accordingly, they are safe and put their belongings in it comfortably.If your cat stays healthy, you are using shampoo, mix it in a transdermal formulation that I would check with a bit of cat beds is effective but safe is that a crate with a lot of time they do fight, you will finally be able to solve this problem is already too close and the sounds it makes.

How Do I Stop My Cat Peeing In The Corner

When it does not have to put his bed is comfiest option.However some cats, whether they are not better.Witch Hazel is soothing and comes as a way you decide to relieve itchingThe noises will be less inclined to climb and hide on.Litter mats are what you are experiencing symptoms that contribute and may need to know that cats don't like.

It feels relaxed and doesn't cause any harm and it is easy to grow for a potty break, you will have to be aggressive towards visitors or even for such a point that it is bad enough, you should do this but remember that in mind when trying to get out f the carpet.I'll give props to this area horrible to them.As an alternative, such as a baby; you may not have dandruff, but instead has fleas, a house can be just as much urine as you would want to breed with your cats.They are leaving their scent to let the two males, which, for anyone who isn't breeding for profit.Hence, compromising the quality of life and elevate his mood and activity.

#Cat Spray Blood Astonishing Ideas #How Much To Spray A Cat

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sailorsaigas · 8 years ago

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“Substitute Guardian” (a Morgan Lives AU) Chapter 2

Author's Note: Chapter is after the Read More, so as not to clutter folks' dashboards.

A year ago, I wrote the first chapter of an AU fic about Morgan surviving the events of Turn Coat. Well, I know it's been a long time in coming, but here is Chapter Two of that AU, the title of which has been settled on. I only hope you will find this entertaining, and that it might help some of you stave off the boredom of having to continue to wait for Jim to finish Peace Talks. Enjoy. ^_^

Being in Chicago again was...odd.

I wasn't entirely certain how I should feel about my return to the states, having spent the better portion of the last year under house arrest in Edinburgh. The early months saw me hospitalized, recovering in an infirmary bed after pushing my already wounded body too hard apprehending the man who'd framed me for murder. A grueling process of rehabilitation eventually began when my mandatory bed rest order was lifted, though after regaining my previous strength, I continued with physical training as a means of self-improvement and killing time. One might be surprised how utterly boring being confined to a centuries-old castle can be. So I trained - trained and studied like a newly minted apprentice one-hundred and fifty years younger. I had no intention of being bested again by my enemies.

Over the course of my time under lock and key, I had a few brief but important conversations with Harry Dresden, who made it a point not to interact with the Council more than absolutely necessary. I understood that mentality far more easily, now, after having my eyes opened during the events of that last year. We discussed where we stood as associates, swallowed what we could of our pride, and made something of a halfhearted but honest attempt at reconciliation. There was a lot of bad blood there, and neither of us could really get over some twenty years of animosity overnight, but it helped that I'd been made aware of the unfortunate truth. The Black Council, a hidden force seeking to tear apart the wizarding community from within, was real...and it was high time somebody did something about it. And so, despite some reluctance from Ebenezar McCoy, I was brought into the fold of the Gray Council, a nearly treasonous body of our own that sought to prevent the enemy from gaining the upper hand in our shadow war.

Stuck as I had been in Edinburgh, I didn't have much to offer of my previous talent as a Council enforcer, but my copious free time gave me opportunity to put my experience to good use in other ways. I was permitted supervised free range of the hallowed halls, and since the only individuals experienced enough to be trusted to watch me were Wardens I'd had a hand in training, they'd rarely challenge me regarding what I did or where I went. Thus I made my primary purpose one of study and documentation, becoming something of a writer for Dresden’s project, the Paranet. The idea of networking the minor talents of the world so that they'd be educated enough to protect one another had been risky in many ways, but had so far been more than worth the risk. However, their information had been limited primarily to what Dresden and a few of his friends were capable of offering, so I made it my goal to expand upon that.

Such was how it became my job to transcribe my personal knowledge, alongside those of Edinburgh's ancient libraries, to create tools for use by the Paranet. To speak plainly, they were mainly pamphlets with a few illustrations, but Dresden and Anastasia said so earnestly that they could prove invaluable to the lesser talents of the world that I started taking pride in the work. It helped that there was little else to do, of course.

Now I stood back on the streets of Chicago, a free man of a sort, though the Doom still hung above my head. These were my old stomping grounds long before they had been Dresden's, and they'd been my area of responsibility as a Warden up until the war with the Red Court of Vampires. I'd hounded Dresden through these streets as I observed his own probation beneath the Doom, and now the shoe was on the other foot. Dresden, if he yet lived, was a Warden of the Council, while I was the one with a single mistake keeping me from summary decapitation. I'm certain there was a lesson in that, and it was one reason I strived to put aside the more petty and miserable aspects of myself.

Shaking off my reminiscences, I examined the building where I'd be staying for the duration of my time as a mentor to Dresden's young apprentice, Molly Carpenter. I knew the building, of course. Only a few blocks away from the ruins of Dresden's own home, the address on my note had directed me to what had once been a boarding house that had been converted into apartments. During our time trying to prove my innocence, a mortal private investigator had set up an observation post in this very building to stake out Dresden. I don't know when the Council had found the time or money to empty the building and remodel it, but they'd done so. It looked pristine, at least from outside, and I knew nobody lived here anymore from a notation on Ana's scrap of paper. The Council didn't want to risk more collateral damage after whatever destroyed Dresden's place nearly killed several mortal bystanders.

I headed into the building and opened the door to the ground floor apartment, though I had keys to all of them. I wondered if they expected me to house Miss Carpenter here while I trained her? That would be practical, but Ana had mentioned the girl would be at her parent's house, and I imagined she'd be more comfortable there. Undoubtedly so, considering what had apparently transpired over the past 48 hours or so.

The apartment was sparsely furnished, though it had necessary amenities like an ice box and a wood-burning stove. There was one bedroom with a bare twin mattress against a wall, connected to a small bathroom with a standing glass-door shower. A single recliner occupied one corner of the living room near the fireplace, and a small dining table that had no accompanying chairs filled space in the kitchen. On it rested a plain white envelope labeled 'Donald.' Inside the envelope was a crisp stack of bills, the first installment of my new monthly stipend. I noted with a small smirk that it was the same monthly amount I'd be making if I were still serving as a Warden. Though I wasn't a Warden anymore, and likely never would be again, I supposed that my time in-service had earned me something. I'd have preferred my blade to the money. Warden or not, Ana made the sword for me. Practically speaking, nobody else would be remotely capable of wielding it effectively. Sentimentally speaking, it was probably my dearest possession.

Placing the envelope of cash in the pocket of the overcoat I wore with today's ensemble of a well-tailored, tan three-piece suit (why couldn't Dresden see the obvious social benefits of not dressing like a hoodlum?), I decided to set aside all other thoughts in favor of the most immediate concern. I couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to pay a visit to my new apprentice. I stepped outside, hailed a cab, and was shortly on my way.

-----

The house I arrived at looked like something out of a Hallmark card, something I wouldn't have thought possible in this part of Chicago. Complete with finely manicured lawn and white picket fence, it was the absolute model of idealized American suburbia. I could feel a kind of power emanating from within the borders of the property, and I knew immediately that this was indeed the correct residence. Michael Carpenter, Molly's father, was the only living retired Knight of the Sword, an ancient group of warriors who served to maintain the balance between Good and Evil on behalf of God. I could only imagine a retirement package from such an occupation would be graced with ample benefits from the Lord.

I was cautious as I approached the front door of the home, being careful not to offend whatever sort of divine bodyguards might watch over the place. I knocked politely, three times, and awaited a response from within. A woman promptly answered, and I could recognize in her face that this must be Molly's mother, Charity. I could also see in her general stance and demeanor, a woman of fierce physical and mental fortitude. I'd hazard to guess she'd once served as the sparring partner for her husband, and Ana had mentioned to me before my departure that the woman was an accomplished smith, likely as a means of indicating someone from whom I could commission a sword. I bowed my head politely, and introduced myself.

"Mrs. Carpenter, I am Donald Morgan," I spoke. "I am a wizard of the White Council. I am here on the Council's behalf to speak with your daughter, Molly, regarding the disappearance of her mentor, Harry Dresden. And, if necessary, continue her training in our arts in his absence."

Mrs. Carpenter looked at me, her right eyebrow arched upward.

"Morgan?" she asked. "The Warden? Harry spoke of you before. Not nicely, either, I should say."

I sighed. I should have known one of Dresden's friends would know my name and my reputation, colored though it might have been by his own perceptions. I could believe she did not think very highly of the man I once was.

"Former Warden," I explained. "I am no longer a Warden of the White Council, Mrs. Carpenter. After a political incident about a year ago, I was removed from my position and consigned to the Doom of Damocles, much like Molly and Dresden before her. That being the case, Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. The Council has but two options regarding your daughter's future: execute her under the order of the Doom, or send me to mentor her in Dresden's stead. I shall see her through to her graduation into a full wizard of the Council, or merely until Dresden returns."

I held my arms out to the side, palms up in a non-threatening gesture of sincerity. I don't do those much, so I doubt it looked very convincing.

"I'm not here to hurt Molly, Mrs. Carpenter," I said, plainly.

Charity continued to stare at me for a moment, sizing me up, gauging my honesty.

Then, her voice firm, she said, "I won't invite you in. Prove to me that you mean no harm."

I understood her meaning immediately. Wizards, and other supernatural entities, cannot pass through a threshold (the magical barrier that separates a home from the outside world) without giving up a significant portion of their power. Certain creatures, like the Vampires of the Red and Black Courts, cannot pass through a threshold at all without first being invited. The threshold of this home was one of enormous potency, and stepping through it would mean leaving nearly all of my magic at the door, making me incredibly vulnerable. It was a common and reliable practice among those who were 'in-the-know' supernaturally, and I applauded her in my mind for thinking ahead. She was clearly a sharp-minded and no-nonsense woman, and having apprenticed under Anastasia Luccio, that was something I could most certainly respect.

"Very well," I replied, and stepped across through the doorway.

It was an odd sensation, leaving my magic behind me. Stepping through the Carpenter threshold was like stepping through a wall of gelatin and coming out the other side disrobed. I felt diminished and exhausted, as if I'd dived into a pool of ice water. I bowed my head politely in her direction after crossing, and she nodded at me. Had I been one of the few harmful supernatural entities that might have crossed a threshold uninvited without trouble, I'd likely have been pulverized by whatever security force watched over the household if I'd intended harm.

Charity motioned to the staircase with a wave of her hand.

"Molly's sleeping upstairs," she explained. "She was wounded when she went to help Harry at Chichen Itza."

I didn't have many of the facts, but if Dresden had been at Chichen Itza, he'd been at one of the most powerful domains of the Red Court. I could only assume it bore some connection to his supposed demise.

"Would it be a problem if I woke her?" I asked. "It's important we get this settled as soon as possible."

"It won't be a problem, but she's not in any condition to talk for very long," Charity stated, matter-of-factly. "She's heavily medicated, patched up on a helicopter and brought here by some of Dresden's associates afterward."

"Field medicine? Why not a hospital?"

"Her wound wasn't severe, she'd mostly overexerted herself after being wounded on the battlefield."

"Well, I am relieved to hear that she is alright, but I will need to speak with her right away so that she understands what is to be done."

"Alright, then. This way."

Inside a room cramped with sewing equipment, Molly slept soundly in a small bed, an IV in her arm.

Charity gently shook her awake as we entered, saying, "Molly, Morgan from the White Council is here to see you."

I didn't miss how Molly's eyes shot open with fear at the mention of my name. Once again, my old reputation preceded me. Swiftly, Mr's. Carpenter calmed her daughter with soft, gentle words explaining that I wasn't there to hurt her, and that I just needed to inform her of some changes regarding her apprenticeship since Harry was missing. Molly was still groggy from sleep and pain medication, but the initial adrenaline rush had cleared her head enough that she acknowledged her mother's words and nodded at me to proceed.

"Hello again, Miss Carpenter," I began. "Your mother is correct that I'm not here to do you any harm. I can only assume the medicine is to blame for you forgetting I'm no longer a Warden."

I tried to smile to show I was being lighthearted, but I was long out of practice, and Molly got a somewhat sour look on her face. I awkwardly tried to recover momentum.

"Ahem, anyway, I have just been released from house arrest. I'm here because Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. Whatever Dresden and the rest of you did at Chichen Itza has thrown the supernatural world into a frenzy. I couldn't begin to tell you even half the things I've heard, and my situation left me fairly out of the loop to begin with. Whatever it is, the Council is preoccupied with damage control, and wasn't sure what to do with you. After much deliberation, rather than have you executed under the Doom, I was chosen to act as your mentor until such a time as you graduate or Dresden returns. I was already under the Doom, myself, so it is no great loss to the Council, and it spares any needless bloodshed."

I paused to let Molly absorb what I had said, and then continued.

"It will only be a temporary arrangement, of course. Under my tutelage, barring Dresden's return, I imagine it would not take longer than a year or two to get you to full wizard status, in which case you would no longer need a mentor. And, of course, should Harry come back, he will be granted the opportunity to once again take over your training. As it stands, however, none of us has any idea what has become of him."

I looked at Molly sternly, though not bluntly intimidating, trying to put a kind of gentle, grandfatherly rebuke into my demeanor.

"What in the world was Dresden doing on the vampire's boat at the time of his presumed death?" I asked.

Molly let out a huff of indignation. "I should have known the first thing you'd do is be suspicious of Thomas."

"Why shouldn't I be? He is a member of the White Court--"

"He's more than just a White Court vampire," she interrupted. "There's a reason Harry was on the boat, and Thomas' offer to let him use it was made in good faith."

"You're the second person today to tell me that," I responded. I tried giving the girl a small smile. "I guess I'll take your word for it, for now."

"Thomas isn't responsible for Harry's murder," Molly said. "I know that for certain."

"You do?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at the remark. "That implies a great deal. If you know for certain that Thomas Raith isn't involved, do you know who is responsible?"

Molly sighed and shook her head. "No. But whoever did it didn't use magic."

"Captain Luccio was able to confirm as much to me before I came out here. Regardless, such discussion has no bearing on my purpose here. I won't trouble you with more questions. Get some rest, and I'll be back tomorrow so we can go over the details of your training."

Molly nodded, and promptly returned to sleep.

Afterward, Charity saw me to the door and wished me luck getting situated in town. She gave me the number for the house, as well as their cell phones, and told me that if I intended to continue investigating Harry's disappearance it would be good to get in touch with Harry's associates in town. A good place to begin would be with their mutual acquaintance Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels, and Karrin Murphy of the Chicago Police Department, in particular. I thanked her, and made my way out the door.

No sooner had I closed the gate to the front yard behind me than I was very nearly run over by an emerald green stretch limousine that sped up to the curb in front of the Carpenter home. Immediately after parking, the driver walked around to passenger side rear door, opened it, and gestured for me to enter. I knew him for what he was the moment I set eyes upon him, and the voice that beckoned to me from within the limo only confirmed my suspicions.

"La! Mortal magi, always so paranoid," called a beautiful singsong from the dark interior of the vehicle. "You have my word of safe passage for the duration of a conversation, Wizard Morgan. On behalf of my Queen, I must needs speak with thee regarding the matter of Harry Dresden."

I looked from the driver holding open the door, and back to the waiting interior of the car. Stepping into the vehicle would be stupid, even with word of safe passage from one of the Fae. Then again, it was about Dresden. Considering that, I thought to myself: what would Harry Dresden do in this situation? The town, after all, needed someone to fill his boots for a time.

I got into the car.

#Dresden Files #Substitute Guardian #Morgan Lives AU #Donald Morgan #It's finally here #Sorry you all had to wait so long

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wordsaremything · 8 years ago

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Healer

Second story about Scorpius! This might be my favorite version of him.

4059 words.

Scorpius had never been so nervous in his whole life. That morning he had told Rose and Al that his nerves were from excitement just to make sure they didn't worry about him, but that was a bald-faced lie. He was freaking out.

The lobby of St. Mungo’s was thankfully nearly empty, save for a couple sleepy wizards in the corner. He approached the Welcome Witch behind the Inquiries desk, which he had seen people do in his small number of visits to the hospital. Before he could say anything, she said, “Here for training, love?”

Scorpius paused. She must have assumed from the early-morning time. “Yes.”

She opened a file. “Name?”

He cleared his throat. “Scorpius Malfoy.”

The witch handed him a badge. She didn't react to his name, like professors at Hogwarts always did. “As long as this is attached to you, it'll get you past all of the security. You'll want the top floor to start. Welcome to St. Mungo’s.” She dismissed him with a smile and turned back to her logbook. Scorpius blinked, and then with heart hammering went to the double doors to the rest of the hospital.

That went too fast. He didn't have time to process it all.

In the lift, Scorpius leaned against the wall because he thought he might pass out if he didn’t. Before it started to go up, two Healers walked in. Their lime-green robes nearly shown in the light as if they were taunting him. They had already gone through this… he almost wanted to cry for help. One pressed the number five, two buttons under where Scorpius had pressed the nine. The doors closed. He hoped they didn’t even notice he was there.

But of course, they did. “Hey, kid,” said the taller, male one, who happened to glance over his shoulder when Scorpius made the mistake of shifting. “Nice badge.”

“Must be the first day of training,” remarked the other, a severe-looking woman with gray hair.

Scorpius nodded, and the male Healer chuckled. “I remember my first day. Was sick right outside the door so I wouldn’t embarrass myself,” he said, “Don’t be discouraged by the ninth floor. Medicenter and Chief’s office up there.”

“Kind of boring,” said the other one with a nod.

“After today you’ll get an assignment, and it’ll be easier from there,” he continued. The lift stop and a cool voice chimed fifth floor.

The Healers both nodded at Scorpius. “Good luck. Maybe we’ll see you in Spell Damage,” the woman said, and then they both left the lift.

Scorpius swallowed as he was left alone. He probably should have asked them questions to make himself feel more prepared. He hadn’t vomited at all… did that mean he wasn’t taking this seriously? Oh no. Suddenly he did want to vomit. He wasn’t cut out for doing things that required a lot of self-assurance.

•••

“Were you really scared, Healer Malfoy?” Lena Craparo, Scorpius’s newest patient, was sitting up in her bed, defiantly, even after all of the times he had told her to stay laying down. She was nine, and the most curious little girl he had ever met.

He nodded at her in reply, one hand pressed over her wrist to keep track of her pulse while he swirled a tumbler in his other hand. It was one part Lena’s blood, two parts indicator dye. “I was terrified on my first day. But I met two older Healers in the lift,” he told her, “And they tried to help.”

“Did they?”

“No ma’am,” he said and she giggled, “But they were from Spell Damage. That’s how I knew I wanted to be here, it’s the best floor, you know.

“Wow,” Lena said with wide eyes. He wasn’t exaggerating; all trainees wanted to be assigned to the Spell Damage floor, it was the most challenging and the most exciting. He had started out in maternity, but then the Healer-In-Charge discovered that Scorpius had a real knack for brain injuries.

Lena came from a little apartment above a Hogsmeade shop. Her family got robbed and the poor girl fell victim to a rogue curse. Scorpius took blood and added it to his potion to see if the curse had spread anywhere from the contact point.

“Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?” he asked Lena. He stopped swirling his tumbler.

She nodded. “A mediwitch! My mum was one before I was born,” she explained.

“Mediwitches are very important. Healers wouldn’t get anywhere without them,” Scorpius said with a little smile. Her smile in reply was bright and happy. She reminded him of his own daughter.

Scorpius looked away and to the tumbler he had been mixing. It told him bad news; the curse had indeed spread. The indicator was mostly a brownish-red color, which meant a high concentration of Dark Magic, and black tendrils gripped at the sides of the glass. This little girl needed a procedure as quickly as possible before this curse circulated to her brain.

“Alright, Lena, I’m going to go talk to your dad,” he said. Her mum was currently in treatment for the same curse, but it hadn’t spread so quickly because obviously, it would have a longer distance to go. “I’ll be back.”

Lena nodded. He didn’t leave until she was settled back into the bed, and even then he locked the door behind him just in case she got really defiant. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his lime-green robes and walked as fast as he could for the waiting room without alarming anyone. Or himself, really. He always felt like children were more personal cases.

Lena’s father was sitting in a chair in the Spell Damage waiting room. Scorpius approached him and cleared his throat. “Mr. Craparo?”

He rose to his feet. “Lena’s Healer?”

Scorpius nodded and shook the man’s hand. “Malfoy. I've just finished looking at your daughter,” he began.

“And?”

“The curse has spread significantly,” Scorpius explained, “She’ll need an immediate detoxification procedure to remove it.”

Mr. Craparo just blinked. “A procedure?”

“Yes. It would be simple, it just takes a lot of time, and she’ll be unconscious the entire–”

“No.”

Scorpius stopped. Did he say… no? “Sir, your daughter–”

“I know. She will heal, just like everyone else did before your fancy ‘procedures’,” said Mr. Craparo.

Scorpius wasn't expecting this. Denying a child treatment. “I don't think you understand. If this curse spreads to her brain she could be altered forever, or worse,” he tried to explain, all the while his face had blanched.

The other man nodded his head, looking worried but Scorpius knew there was nothing he could do to convince him. “Then it'll happen. Whatever happens, it'll happen naturally,” he said.

So the argument was lost. Legally Scorpius couldn't perform the detox without parental consent, and Lena’s mother was in no position to give any. She gave her Healers all the permission she needed for her own treatment, but at this point, Lena was out of luck. And she could die.

A little girl could die and Scorpius was more than capable of saving her and her father said no.

•••

The morning after Scorpius’s first overnight shift as a trainee, he leaned on the counter in the cafeteria while he waited for a cup of coffee. An unopened chocolate chip muffin waited next to his hand. He really needed to wake up, because he still had a couple hours left of his shift, and then he could go home and sleep. Maybe he could get away with just shadowing until the end.

The man behind the counter placed a cup of coffee beside Scorpius’s elbow. “There you go, son.”

He raised his head. “Thank you,” he said and handed over two sickles. He picked up his cup and his muffin and left the cafeteria, making his way for the lift.

While walking down the corridor, he spotted staff members refilling old vases with flowers and being rather meticulous with arranging them. Others were dusting various wall hangings. Scorpius only thought this was odd because he’d never seen this happen before. Maybe it was the exhaustion that made him realize these random things. Maybe they really did change the flowers every morning…

When he was back on the fifth floor and his coffee was already half gone, his boss rounded the corner and nearly collided with him. “There you are!” he cried and marched past. Scorpius knew that meant to follow him, so he did. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We have lots to do today.”

“More than usual, sir?” Scorpius asked and used his teeth to rip open the plastic on his muffin.

“Of course, Malfoy,” said the Healer-In-Charge, “She’ll be here in a bit over an hour. I need everything to run smoothly and look clean while I give her the spiel.”

Scorpius furrowed his brows. “She?”

He stopped and turned, giving Scorpius that exasperated look he was known to give all the trainees. Healers in Spell Damage often had little capacity for confusion. “The minister, kid,” he said.

Eyes wide, Scorpius swallowed his bite of the muffin without chewing much. “The minister is coming here? Today?” he asked.

“Did nobody tell you?”

Scorpius shook his head.

“Well, now you know,” said his boss, “She calls it informal and just protocol, but it’s still important. Everything needs to go smoothly and do so without me for a bit so I can talk to her.”

Scorpius grinned a little and downed the rest of his coffee in one go. “Not a problem, sir, I can–”

“You will do what I need you to do, Malfoy,” the Healer interrupted, “And you’ll listen to Barthes.”

Cady Barthes was the attending Healer Scorpius answered to. “Well, yes, but the minister–”

But the older man was having none of it. “No buts! Go see Barthes, now.” And he walked away, leaving Scorpius standing in the middle of the corridor with a muffin mostly uneaten in his hand.

He had no choice but to do what he was told. There was no room for mistakes in Spell Damage, since being hired at St. Mungo’s on its own was too competitive, not to mention getting to keep his place in the department on top of that. Healer Barthes updated him on all his patients, and he would be on two rudimentary cleaning procedures that day. Curses sometimes stuck around for a while when they were bad enough.

While Scorpius was having a conversation with one of his older patients, he heard the nervous and rather fake-sounding laughter of his boss coming down his hall. That’s how he knew the minister had arrived, even before she said anything.

“This corridor is most of our older patients, the ones that stay overnight, that is. Usually, for no more than a couple nights, mind you,” he said, his voice getting louder as he got closer to the open door.

Scorpius smiled at his patient. “Take a rest, Mrs. Shafiq. I’ll be back later with your results.” He walked to the open door and leaned on the doorjamb. He was feeling a weird mix of excitement and apprehension.

Minister Granger walked in the center, her hands in the pocket of her robes. Her undersecretary walked on her right, a notepad and pen in his hands, although Scorpius knew that the stationary could do things all on its own. The undersecretary was called Brian.

“This looks more like what I was expecting, Mills,” said the minister as she looked around, “I’ve only seen the wing with the permanent residents.”

Healer-In-Charge Mills nodded his head sadly. “Sometimes it’s hard to visit that ward, but those patients need all the care they can get. And they deserve to be comfortable,” he explained.

Hermione nodded. “Of course, I expect nothing less,” she said. They were almost on top of Scorpius now. Her head swiveled just a bit when he shifted, and she must have caught it in the corner of her eye because she smiled right at him. “There you are,” she said, stopping, “I knew you worked on this floor.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ten years,” Scorpius replied with a smile.

Hermione Granger shook her head. “Because you’re always here!” She held her arms out and approached him, and he embraced her, and she smelled like coffee. He was sure he did too. Over her shoulder, he looked at Mills, whose expression had morphed into pure shock.

When the two parted, Hermione took Scorpius’s chin and tilted his head up, checking him over like a mother has for most of his adolescent life. “You look exhausted, Scorpius.”

The trainee shrugged. “That’s because I’ve been here for sixteen hours,” he replied.

“Good. You’re doing good things here,” she said with a smile. She turned to Mills, who immediately clamped his jaw shut again. “Don’t you dare keep him if he doesn’t deserve it, alright? But he’s a good boy.”

Scorpius’s cheeks burned pink, and he looked down. He heard his boss splutter. “Y-yes, Minister. Would you like to continue?”

Hermione hummed in the affirmative. “Don’t make me break into your house, Malfoy. Come visit,” she said sternly before walking away again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded with a chuckle. He received one more baffled look from Mills before they disappeared again. Feeling positively lighter, Scorpius went back to his work.

Before the end of his shift, no doubt when the minister had left the building, Mills found Scorpius filing paperwork behind the information desk. His face was still baffled as if he had still just seen Hermione Granger give Scorpius a hug.

“Why did the Minister of Magic know you?” he demanded. The mediwitch a couple feet away snorted, obviously keeping in laughter.

Scorpius didn’t look up from the cabinet he was digging in. “She’s my mother-in-law,” he said simply.

Healer Mills was silent for a few beats until Scorpius was done and had pulled out the right document. Then he muttered, “The minister… is your…?”

Scorpius slammed the filing cabinet shut and gave his boss the smuggest luck he’s ever thought of using, and held up his left hand, complete with a wedding ring. Then he walked away. He definitely only got away with that because Mills was still puzzling it out. Didn’t this man ever read the Prophet?

•••

Scorpius’s shift was supposed to end an hour ago, but he still hadn’t left the hospital. Lena Craparo was basically on death row. He could not let that little girl die.

Cady Barthes was still in the building and at the moment his only hope. He knew, deep down, that there was really nothing he could do but something in him told him he couldn’t give up. Healer Barthes was at the floor’s medistation, filling out a form when Scorpius approached her.

“Barthes,” he said as he approached her, and she glanced up at him so he went on, “I have a predicament.”

She put her pen down. “That’s never a good thing to hear from a Healer,” she responded. This is something Scorpius liked about her over the former Healer-In-Charge, Mills. Barthes actually listened.

“I have a nine-year-old who needs a curse detox, or it will most likely kill her,” Scorpius explained, “And her father will not give consent.”

“Is there another parent?”

“She’s in her own treatment.”

Barthes pursed her lips, and Scorpius’s heart sank. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it, Malfoy,” she said.

“Help me,” Scorpius implored.

“There’s nothing I can do,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and pushing off the counter, “The parent won’t give consent, you can’t do the procedure.”

He couldn’t accept that. “This is a kid’s life, Barthes.”

“Did you say that to her father?” she said, gathering up her pen and her clipboard and starting down the hall. Scorpius followed.

“I did what I could without hexing him myself.”

Barthes sighed. “Then it’s over with. You just have to wait and hope to Merlin that she will pull through,” she said.

Scorpius gaped, and he shook his head. “I can’t let a girl die from something that is within my power to fix!” he exclaimed.

Barthes turned to him, forcing them both to stop in the middle of the hallway. “I’m sorry, Scorpius,” she said, and she did look sorry, “But it’s the law.”

She left him standing there alone staring in the space where she had been. She was his only hope. He hoped she would have the power to fix this. Scorpius signed up to save lives. He got all those NEWTs, filled out applications, went to interviews, did four years of extensive training so he would even have a chance to compete to be hired as a real Healer, and now two more years in here he was. He was here to save lives and this one parent was keeping him from doing so. From saving a little girl.

There had to be something.

Since his shift was technically over, there were other Healers and medipersons making sure his patients were okay. Instead of going home, he went to the top floor and to the trainees’ break room, where he shut himself up with a room of books. He pulled down all of the ones he remembered about medical law and spread them over one of the tables. There had to be something about overriding parental consent in one of them.

Unfortunately, it had been too many years since his all night sessions of studying, and after just a few hours of poring over the law books he ended up falling asleep on them.

Scorpius awoke the next morning to a group of trainees leaning over his table. He bolted up, and his stiff back protested, causing him to groan in discomfort.

“Healer Malfoy…” muttered one of the trainees, a worried look on her face. She was from his floor.

Another one of them piped up. “Do you need a cup of coffee?”

Scorpius ran his hands through his hair and nodded. He really should have gone home. “Yes, please, that would be brilliant.”

Later when Scorpius had downed his coffee and made himself look less disheveled, he walked down the children’s ward of his floor to check up on Lena. It was still rather early in the morning, so he wasn’t surprised to walk in the room and find her asleep. She looked okay, and that was the worst part, because everything harming her was growing inside. He did his best not to wake her as he checked her vitals and her chart from the hours he was supposed to be off, and then left her to continue her rest. He hated himself for it, but he ended up in the potions lab afterwards, staring at the tumbler where he had isolated Lena’s curse.

It looked worse now. It was almost completely black on the inside, and the tendrils had grown to coat the inside like a web of tar reaching for the stopper to get out. It made him sick thinking of the that curse growing inside a child, and he wasn’t allowed to help her. Because it was unnatural.

There was a knock on the lab door, even though it was open. Scorpius turned, and to his surprise Lena was there. Immediately he could tell she looked far worse than she did less than an hour ago. Pale and shaky. “Lena,” he said, turning towards her fully, “What are you doing out of–”

“I don’t feel very good, Healer Malfoy,” she said. She swayed and Scorpius rushed forward to grab her before she fell over. “I… threw up on the floor, I’m sorry, it’s all inky.”

Oh Merlin. “That’s okay, Lena, we can just get you back to bed,” he said and started to gently push her back towards her room.

“No,” she protested weakly and swayed again, “I think I’m going to faint.”

And she did. Scorpius quickly scooped her up and checked her over. The veins on her neck and on her temples were black and showing through her skin, and without even looking Scorpius knew that it looked the same on other parts of her body. He sprung into action.

“I need a PR in the next thirty seconds!” he shouted down the hall. Procedure room. A couple mediwitches ran from the station down the hall to start prepping, and the few Healers in the vicinity looked over in curiosity and surprise.

Barthes ran over as Scorpius placed Lena on a gurney. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m saving a life,” he replied as he charmed an oxygen bubble around the girl’s nose and mouth to keep her breathing.

“This is against the law, Malfoy,” she said and jogged alongside him as he and a mediwizard pushed the gurney towards the PR, “Her father said no–”

“Not anymore,” he interrupted. The gurney was rushed into the PR and Scorpius prepped himself for the procedure, shedding his robes, keeping his wand. “She came to me because she knew something was wrong and passed out right on top of me. This is an emergency now, it’s no longer up to parental consent. I know, I read three law books last night.”

So Barthes let him go, and he went to perform the detox. It was much harder and longer than it had to be because he had been forced to wait so long, and now there was a higher chance of the curse fighting back. But with some help he managed to pull it off, and while it left Lena unconscious and pale, she would be fine. A couple more days and she would get her color back and would be able to go home. She would get to live.

As imagined it did not go over well when Scorpius had no choice but to tell Lena’s father about the emergency detox. Of course, he was outraged, because Scorpius had gone against his wishes and performed the procedure on his daughter.

“It was perfectly legal–”

“You had no right,” said Mr. Craparo, interrupting, and Scorpius leaned away from the man’s pointing finger.

He looked evenly at him. “She nearly fainted right onto the floor. She came to me because she knew something was wrong with her body,” he responded calmly. He was reacting like the trained Healer he was, but the father of a daughter inside him was exploding.

“She’s a child, she doesn’t know–”

This time Barthes interrupted. She stepped in between Scorpius and Lena’s father. “Bottom line, sir. Your daughter was almost dead on the floor and in an emergency, any kind of treatment is perfectly legal with parental consent or no. Healers swore an oath to save saves. Without Healer Malfoy your daughter would be dead, do you understand that?”

Mr. Craparo said nothing. His eyes were strangely glassy, like he could start crying at any moment.

“So I am not going to allow you to stand there and shout at one of my attendings for doing his job so exceptionally,” she concluded and straightened her robes, “You may see your daughter when she wakes up, her mediwitch will come let you know. Good day.”

And she turned and marched away. Scorpius couldn’t help but grin. “She’ll be ready to go home in less than a week,” he said before he also left the waiting room. The pride was back, from a successful detox and from Cady Barthes saying everything he wanted to say himself so beautifully.

Scorpius didn’t talk to Lena’s father again, he only saw her. After this ordeal, he went home and gave his own little girl a few extra hugs for a couple days. Lena thought that story was the cutest thing she ever heard.

On one of the last days the girl was in Scorpius’s care, a woman stopped by her room while he was there. She knocked on the door and got both their attentions, and Lena immediately squealed, “Mummy!” The woman didn’t wait for Scorpius to say anything before she darted in and threw her arms around Lena and hugged her tight. Scorpius just stood by, letting them have their moment, and then the mother turned her head and mouthed silently to him.

Thank you.

#scorpius malfoy #scorose #hp next gen #harry potter next generation #harry potter fanfiction #scorpius stories

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darnedchild · 8 years ago

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 - Day Five

A/N: With apologies to Laurie R. King and her book “The Beekeeper’s Apprentice”, from which I have shamelessly stolen the idea of traveling in a Vardo in pursuit of the bad guys. I’m not completely happy with this, but I’ve run out of time and something is better than nothing, yes? Also, still unbeta’d because hahaha who needs words to make sense? Will go up on FF.net and Ao3 tomorrow.

ALSO - this is sort of a sequel to last year’s Sherlolly Appreciation Week fic “A Letter to Mary”. You probably don’t need to read that one to figure out what is going on in this one, though.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 – Day Five (Canon Compliant – The Abominable Bride)

Another Letter to Mary

My Dearest Mary,

I do not know when this letter will reach you. Holmes has forbidden me from posting any missives home for the time being. We are traveling incognito; and he does not wish to offer any indication to overly curious eyes that we are in any way connected to the well-known detective stories. If ever there was a wife who would understand the need for such discretion, it is you, my love.

As you are aware, Holmes, Hooper and I are on the trail of a small band of murderous men. Another corpse was located in a small hamlet less than half-a-day’s ride from the initial murder. Holmes suspects the man was in league with the thieves and was deemed a liability for one reason or another. He thinks the men have begun to turn on one another.

Speed and stealth are paramount, for Holmes feels more deaths are imminent if the blackguards become aware of our pursuit. He believes they will be going to ground until such time as it will be safe to fence the item.

As such, we have abandoned our conspicuous carriage and driver. Holmes has managed to procure a Vardo—a sort of traveling wagon—from a Romani gentleman, as well as a horse to pull it, and three sets of simple clothing in exchange for a hefty sum. They have made arrangements for the return of the wagon once our current mission has been fulfilled. In addition, the man advised Holmes as to the best roads to travel upon and what small villages would be the most accepting of three strange men passing through.

When next we set off, we were disguised as a set of brothers in route to visit our dear mother some far distance away.

The Vardo has a small cast-iron cooking stove and a pair of sleeping bunks, which removed our need to stop overnight at an inn. We ride as long as the horse is able, then stop only long enough to allow the animal a few hours rest. Holmes feels we are getting closer to locating the thieves with every passing day.

I am afraid that’s all the news I have regarding the progress of our case, my love. However, I feel there is something you may find of equal interest that I can begin to share with you.

The Vardo is adequate for our needs, but by necessity we are in quite close quarters. Hooper and I have endeavoured to maintain her secret from Holmes. Food has been sparse and lacking in variety or flavour. Concerns for cleanliness and hygiene have been met with the very minimum of concessions on Holmes’ part.

Until this morning.

Tempers had grown volatile, to the point that Hooper and Holmes spent nearly a quarter of an hour arguing as they hitched the horse before Holmes climbed up and took the reins and Hooper stormed into the wagon. I thought it best to stay out of her way and let her work out her aggressions alone, therefore I joined Holmes. He refused to speak for many a minute, before informing me that we would be stopping in another hour’s time. I asked if there was another village ahead, and he said that was not the case. There was, however, a small river.

I do not think I can adequately express what occurred when we arrived at the riverside in the confines of this letter. Until I am able to share a recounting of the events with you face-to-face, I will leave it at this: Holmes is very much aware that Doctor Hooper is a woman; and, unless I am mistaken, there will be a declaration of feelings forthcoming once we return to London.

I know you, my love, and you are already burning with the need for clarification, and I will appease your hunger for knowledge as soon as I am able. Until then, not a word to M or anyone else.

I do not know when I shall return. As always, I hold your memory to my heart and dream of you whenever I close my eyes.

Your faithful husband,

John

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“A river? Are we meeting another of your informants out here?” Watson asked, bracing himself as the wagon rolled over a particularly deep hole.

“Nothing so interesting, Watson. As Doctor Hooper so vehemently reminded me, we need to replenish our water supplies. A short delay to rinse the grime out of our clothes will not set us back too far, I should think.” Holmes continued to urge the horse forward, making an effort to guide it around the largest of the ruts in the road.

The allure of clean clothing and the possibility of a quick bath distracted Watson for most of the journey to the river. It wasn’t until Holmes brought the wagon to a stop beneath the trees along the riverbank that Watson began to realize the predicament Doctor Hooper was about to face.

Holmes leaned back to smack the flat of his hand against the wagon door twice, then jumped down and set about unhitching the horse and unslinging the steps from the back of the Vardo.

Hooper opened the door moments later. “Why have we stopped?”

“The river.” Watson nodded toward the slow-moving water visible between the tree trunks.

“Do we need to cross it?” Hooper asked, confused.

Holmes dropped the laddered steps in front of the wagon and quickly latched them to the footboard. “You said you wanted fresh water to scrub your clothes and bathe, Hooper.” He waved his arm toward the river with a mocking flourish. “There you are. Cleanse yourself.”

Then he bounded up the steps and pushed past Hooper into the wagon.

“Surely he doesn’t mean to-to . . . in the river, out in the open, where anyone could come upon us!” Hooper’s voice rose dangerously close to a feminine tone. She quickly snapped her mouth shut and glared into wagon.

“I mean that very thing,” Holmes replied. He reappeared in the doorway with a bundle of cloth. “Do hurry, Doctors. I don’t intend to tarry for long.”

By the time Watson had gathered his shaving kit and several articles of clothing he wished to rinse, Hooper had made an effort to do the same. They approached the riverbank to find that Holmes had used the soap from his own grooming kit to work up a lather and was already rinsing his spare shirt.

The water was cool and refreshing, and Watson would have given his entire portion of their planned lunch of cheese and bread for chance to undress and wade into it. He cast a glance toward Hooper and wondered if there were anyway to persuade her to take a walk without arousing Holmes’ suspicions.

She looked up and briefly met his eyes before her own slid to the man behind him and widened in shock. A fiery blush turn the cheeks above her moustache painfully red, and her mouth formed a nearly inaudible gasp. Even without looking, Watson knew that Holmes had done something completely and utterly improper.

With a deep breath, Watson turned with a rebuke already upon his lips, only to become paralyzed in horror at the sight of a barefoot Holmes stripping off articles of clothing without a care to the world. He was bare from the waist up, bracers hanging off his hips, and reaching for the fastening of his trousers before Watson could find his voice. “Holmes!”

Thankfully the other man’s hands stilled before he could do more than slip the button free. “Yes, Watson?” he asked in all innocence.

“What are you doing, man?” Watson hissed. His first inclination was to insert himself between Holmes and Hooper, to make sure the poor woman wasn’t exposed to any more of Holmes’ exhibitionism; but he did not think Hooper would welcome his interference.

“I should think that would be obvious, even to you.” Holmes inclined his head toward the water. “I intend not to waste the resources nature has provided for us. I am covered in dust and grime and the river is here, the solution seems apparent to me. Would you not agree, Hooper?”

Watson heard her sputter out something that could have been interpreted as agreement. Then she excused herself for a moment, stood with her recently rinsed and still dripping garments clutched to her chest, and hurried toward the Vardo as if the very hounds of hell were at her heels.

As soon as she was inside the wagon, Watson turned back to his friend with a stern look. There was nothing else for it, he would have to reveal Hooper’s secret. “Holmes, I really must protest. There is something you need to know-“

“I am already aware of the matter of which you wish to enlighten me.”

Watson huffed, incredulous. “I do not think you are.”

Holmes finished undressing, forcing Watson to turn away or risk becoming for more well acquainted with his friend than he cared to. “If you are about to inform me that Doctor Hooper is not what he appears to be . . . I am already aware.”

“But you never! Not a word! How long have you known?” Watson sputtered. A quick glance assured him that Holmes had walked deep enough into the river that the water rose to his chest when he knelt.

“Since the first time he spoke with true aggravation in my presence. Perhaps ten minutes into our acquaintance. Hooper’s mannerisms were odd, but easily dismissible as merely that of an effeminate gentleman. However, the lower register that Hooper routinely uses was momentarily absent. It was quite clearly the voice of a woman berating me for some infraction. One that must have been particularly heinous, judging from the scolding I received.”

“You keep saying ‘he’, Holmes.” Watson looked longingly toward the water. It did appear rather inviting.

"Why wouldn't I when we are discussing the Hooper who is employed at St Bartholomew's? That Hooper is very clearly a man. That's how he chooses to present himself professionally, which are the only times we have had occasion to interact, and the man is extremely competent at his job. What business is it of mine to contradict him simply because of what may or may not be hidden in his trousers?"

"Holmes!" Watson glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

"For God's sake, man, you're a doctor. Stop acting as if you are my spinster maiden aunt. To the world, Hooper is a male, and I have made considerable effort to respect that. Even if my own thoughts have been known to play havoc with my good intentions." Holmes dunked his head under the water to thoroughly wet his hair, then stood up and began to wade toward the riverbank.

"If you were aware that Hooper was a . . ." Watson lowered his voice to a loud, hissing whisper. "A woman, then what was that earlier display about?"

Finally—Finally!—Holmes had the decency to look slightly abashed. "I have long been stimulated by Hooper's intelligence, his provoking nature, his ability to hold his own against me in a battle of words. Of late, however, I have begun to notice stirrings of a less . . . cerebral nature during some of our more heated exchanges."

"Are you saying that you're a, well, a homosexual?" Watson whispered once again as Holmes bent to pick up his drawers. Not that it would alter their friendship as far as Watson was concerned, but Holmes would have to tread lightly if he wished to act upon his inclinations without being accused of a criminal act by someone wishing to discredit him in the eyes of the law.

"Have we not just established that I have been aware that Hooper has been masquerading as a man the entire time I have been working with him? Clearly, it is not simply a matter of a preference for one sex or the other. I told you, Watson, it was his mind that first drew me. Then other little details began to find root in my thoughts. The size and delicacy of Hooper's hands, the graceful line of her pale throat. More and more I found myself wondering what her hair would look like when released from her wig, the shape of her lips without the obstruction of Hooper's mustache." He looked away for a moment and Watson thought he was going to draw into himself, but Holmes surprised him. "I finally understood that I wished to get to know the woman behind the doctor, to see if she truly was everything I'd begun to imagine."

"And that was?"

Holmes finished stepping into his trousers, and reached for his shirt. "Intelligent, practical, strong, graceful."

All fine qualities that Holmes would find important in a mate, Watson knew. But there were others that were equally important, surely. "What of attraction, Holmes?"

"I won't lie and pretend that her physical appearance won't have a bearing in my intentions, the difference between platonic affection and something more. But the same could be true on her part.” He slid his arms into the shirt sleeves and began to fasten the buttons. “I may not have the sort of countenance that she would prefer in a potential paramour."

"And the peacock display?" Watson asked.

“An experiment.” Now Holmes flushed. "If there was no sign of reciprocal attraction on Hooper's part, then I would be able infer any overtures of a romantic or . . . physical nature would be unwelcomed. I could therefore spare us both the embarrassment of presuming too much when I finally approached her to extend the hand of friendship."

"Why didn't you just ask? Hooper, I mean. Why bother with this highly improper ruse?" More importantly, Watson thought, why did he have to be present when Holmes decided to expose his arse to the gaze of God and Nature.

Holmes started at him if Watson had said something particularly disappointing. "Think it through. If I approached Hooper at St Bartholomew's or her residence, without first ascertaining if there was an inkling of shared interest, then I would be putting a strain on our professional . . ." He struggled for the correct term.

"Relationship,” Watson offered.

"Not necessarily the term I would have chosen, but adequate. At best Hooper would be aware that I knew of her deception; and no matter how sincere my assurances that I would not turn her in, there would always be the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Which would be preferable to the worst scenario, in which Hooper might see my overture as an extortion attempt, and feel obligated to pretend affection in order to maintain her current lifestyle."

"I still do not see how that required you to remove every stitch of your clothing in front of someone you know to be a woman, regardless of her current form of dress."

Holmes looked to the heavens as if searching for patience. "If Hooper exhibited no sign of interest in my 'display'—as you so charmingly put it—then there would be no reason to risk alerting her that I am now, and always have been, aware of her true nature. I would have been disappointed, I admit, but Hooper is the best pathologist I've had the opportunity to work with and I have no desire to intentionally ruin that."

"Is this about risking the loss of your sparring partner at the morgue, or risking your heart without first hedging your bet? She may not be the only one uncomfortable with continuing as before if your attraction is not returned." As brilliant as Holmes was, he did have an awful habit of overlooking the obvious when it came to his own emotions.

"I have been reliably informed that I do not have a heart. Watson.” Holmes shook his head as he slipped his bracers over his arms and into place. “You of all people should know that.”

"I, of all people, am the one who knows just how large of a heart you possess, and how strongly it beats for those you hold dear.” Watson saw through his friend’s defences easily. “Did you so quickly forget the extent of your efforts to remind me of all I was to lose if I couldn't see past the red haze of anger I felt when I learned of Mary's adventures for your brother?"

"That was different. That was Mary."

"And this is . . .” Watson trailed off with a frown. “What is Hooper's given name?"

"The medical license is issued to Milton Hooper, but I feel it safe to assume that wasn't the name she was christened with." Holmes looked pensive. “If I could find out where she was born, I might be able to locate her birth records . . .”

"What was all this about, then, if not a matter of the heart?" Watson's expression hardened. "I will not stand by and let you comprise-"

"Watson!” Holmes snarled. “I am not going to continue this line of questioning with you."

"Holmes. Sherlock. I've only one last inquiry. In all the years that I have known you, you have only expressed more than a passing interest in one other person-"

Holmes looked utterly horrified. "Who?!"

Watson gave him a pointed look, then glanced down to where Holmes’ pocket watch would normally rest. Holmes remained stubbornly silent. "If you have had an interaction of a romantic nature-"

"Do you mean a sexual nature, Watson? Because that seems to be what you are attempting to imply in a ridiculously indirect way." The detective bent down and snatched up his boots, before glaring at his friend.

"I said romantic and that is what I meant.” Watson held out his arm to keep Holmes from walking away. “Are you sure this is what you want, that it isn't just an entertainment to fill the time between cases?"

Holmes bit back whatever snide comment had been about to slip from his lips and took a deep, calming breath. He looked toward the Vardo, then back to Watson and nodded his head. “This is what I want. She is what I want. If her friendship is all that Hooper wishes to grant me, then I shall accept it with all the grace that God has granted me. Which is, I concede, not much. However, I have reason to believe there shall be more between her and I than merely friendship.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?” Watson hoped his friend was correct, and that it wasn’t just the other man’s overblown ego making itself known.

Holmes nodded toward the small curtained window on the side of the wagon. “Hooper spent quite a long time raptly peeking out of that window while I was undressed. If you wouldn’t mind giving us a small measure of privacy, I believe the good doctor and I have something we need to discuss.” He set off for the wagon, then stopped before he reached the steps. “A mere two minutes’ walk up the bank would ensure that no one bathing in the river could be seen from the Vardo, if one were so inclined.”

Watson watched Holmes enter the wagon, and waited to make sure Hooper wasn’t going to come storming out. He laid out his newly washed clothing over several tree branches to dry in the sun, then took his shaving kit and began to whistle as he walked up the riverbank.

#sherlollyweek2017

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The Chase Files Daily Newscap 8/11/2019

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for Friday, November 68th, 2019. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Government Information Service (BGIS), Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Weekend Nation Newspaper (WN).

EVANGELICAL WRATH – Even as one branch of the Abrahamic religious community seeks legal sanction for ritual cannabis use, Christian evangelical leaders have denounced the move, declaring it a ‘gateway’ to full legalisation. Pentecostal preachers declared they were not in support of Attorney General Dale Marshall’s announcement in Parliament on Tuesday that the legislation was coming because it was the right of the Rastafarian community to use the drug for sacramental purposes, in accordance with guarantees under the Bill of Rights in the Constitution of Barbados that protect religious freedom. The evangelists were united in the view that the move was a gateway to legalising marijuana for recreational purposes. Apostle Elesius Joseph, senior pastor at Apostolic Teaching Centre, declared there was no scientific evidence that suggested that using marijuana for sacramental purposes would provide medicinal benefits for Rastafarians. The community has long considered cannabis as an integral part of their sacramental rites. Joseph said he believed that marijuana use also led to other illicit drugs. He told Barbados TODAY: “Once you open it for religious use, who can define that the person who is using it, is using it for religious use and not for recreational purpose? “Once you do that, there are obviously no barriers to control it, or no opportunities to regulate it. “Once you open it for religious use you remove all regulations.” Apostle Joseph said that marijuana was a troublesome drug for young people that has affected their lives in several ways, including their neurological and psychological growth. He said: “When it is used for medicinal purposes it is regulated by a doctor. “The amount and how often it is prescribed will be regulated. “But when somebody uses it for religious and recreational purposes there is no monitoring process.” Apostle Dr David Durant of Restoration Ministries, a former senator, declared he was not only opposed to Rastafarians using the drug for religious purposes, but added that he would strongly advocate against “any other religion using it”. He said: “So I would ask that we be very cautious in going ahead. “We are a very small island and any great impact can have a devastating effect on the mental and intellectual capacity of our young people. “So I would want to put up a red flag and a big caution sign in going forward.” Reverend Thelma Greaves from Deliverance Temple House of Prayer said that while marijuana’s medicinal benefits had been proven scientifically, it should also be acknowledged that “it has bad effects too”. Reverend Greaves said what bothered her most was how would it be determined that marijuana would be used for religious beliefs, and not misused. She said: “I very much fear actually that this is a gateway to the legalisation of recreational marijuana and that is going to be devastating for the youth. “Recent research has shown that if you take marijuana before the age of 16, it has the capacity and the ability to damage your brain cells for ever. “Now if that is true, and you are going to legalize it, you are going to have young people in the Rastafarian religion who will be using it for worship and damaging themselves.” Pastor Hal Cumberbatch, also of Restoration Ministries, acknowledged that he was not familiar with Rastafarianism, but declared that he was not in total agreement with what he had been told about the faith. He said: “We have to go by the word of God if we claim that Christ is in us. “And I don’t see anywhere in the word of God that we should indulge in marijuana or smoking. “Smoking [abuses] the body to begin with and we are not to abuse the body. “Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit and we must keep our bodies holy.” (BT)

GANJA GAMBLE – One of the nation’s Rastafarian leaders has expressed cautious optimism though not fully satisfied as Government begins to consider a proposed ‘sacrament bill’ to legalise the religion’s use of marijuana as part of its ritual. But the spokesman for the Ichirouganaim Council for the Advancement of Rastafari (ICAR) Adonijah said Government and the community are reportedly still “far apart” on certain restrictions to be imposed of the sacramental herb and key details were not revealed when Attorney General Dale Marshall made the announcement in Parliament last Tuesday. Adonijah told Barbados TODAY: “It is by no means a done deal. “It is a start and there are issues of course but I don’t think it would be right of me to discuss what those issues may be. “I think it is a welcomed start but ICAR is fully aware of the fact that this is by no means a resolution to this issue. “There is quite a way to go but this is a start and I welcome movement where there has been no movement before.” The Attorney General’s declaration on Tuesday provided tremendous insight on Government’s rationale for legalising cannabis for Rastafarians, said the ICAR spokesman. But Marshall disclosed very little about the parameters of the bill including the allowable quantities of marijuana, the locations where it could be used or other possible restrictions. He told the House of Assembly: “For us to continue to prohibit that, would be to continue to breach their fundamental constitutional rights. “And not just rights guaranteed by the Barbados Constitution, but rights guaranteed by the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.” In response, Adonijah pointed out that Marshall did not disclose where the law would be applied but said: “ I respect the negotiation process that is going on between ICAR and the Government but I would not want to just go and jump and let out something.” But hinting at a generational rift within the faith community, the Rastafarian leader sounded a conciliatory note as he indicated that while the group’s demands could not be facilitated overnight, younger factions within the movement were becoming restless. Adonijah said: “There’s quite a lot to it and based on my interactions with other people on Facebook, some people are very impatient and think the current situation is foolishness and [the legislation] should contain this or that, but people need to realise the context in which we are speaking. “In Barbados, just the fact that you are in the House of Assembly and calling the word cannabis is a big thing. “It would not appear to be a big thing for young people who have not been out there on the battlefield so long. “I have been on the battlefield and in the trenches for Rastafari and cannabis use for 40 years. “So the ones that have now come to the fight, understandably are impatient.” He said the previous Democratic Labour Party administration refused to discuss the Rastafarian community’s requests, and said he is pleased the current administration had started making provisions for some sacramental use after just 17 months in power. The prominent academic, cultural icon and journalist said: “Barbados is one of the most ‘Babylonian’ places in the Western Hemisphere and to make any kind of dent at all in that issue is significant. It does not mean by any means that ICAR is satisfied. “I am not satisfied with what I know about the bill, but I commend the fact that there has been a start, because there was nothing before. I feel for the people who are impatient but I want to tell them to put it into context.”(BT)

FINALLY – After years of enduring strong-arm tactics by law enforcement for the possession and use of marijuana, members of the local Rastafarian community believe light is at the end of the tunnel. At Temple Yard, a popular market and liming spot frequented by Rastafarians in Bridgetown, there was optimism after Attorney General, Dale Marshall’s announcement that marijuana would soon be decriminalised for religious purposes. While many say they’ve been defying local marijuana laws for decades, they told Barbados TODAY the move would bring an end to long-standing tension between them and the Royal Barbados Police Force. As Ras Binghi carefully crafted leather shoes at his stall in Temple Yard, he described the move as a “brilliant” one for the religious community, but interpreted it as an admission of guilt by the country’s political class for longstanding injustices.“The ‘system’ has now finally come to a stage where it recognises itself as a criminal, because they knew all along that marijuana was good, but they decriminalised it for their special purposes. The ‘system’ is now showing up itself and admitting [marijuana] wasn’t bad all along. It was really good but they were just bull-sh***ing us. It’s simple,” Binghi told Barbados TODAY. Describing the plant as his “birth certificate”, he said the new legislation would have little impact on his current lifestyle. “I was always smoking marijuana and if it’s not legal, I am smoking it and if it’s legal, I am smoking it. So there’s no change because marijuana is my birth certificate. It’s like my second name so I am going to smoke the same way and control myself the same way,” he declared. Over the past year, people who frequent Temple Yard have seen a marked reduction in the number of police raids in the area, but said they were staying vigilant until the new legislation had been passed in both Houses of Parliament. According to Roland Fagan, the Attorney General’s announcement in Parliament this week represents progress from “old laws of the plantocracy” which still exist. He told Barbados TODAY contrary to some beliefs, the plant did not prevent people from being productive members of society and more “progressive” laws on the issue would provide a great ease for Rastafarians and their families and the justice system. “We have more critical issues affecting the youth including outside influences bringing in guns. Right now we are exposed to the media and the Internet and the problems that come with such things. So to have the judicial system eased up from marijuana cases would be great and would allow us to concentrate on more serious community problems,” he said. For Fagan, marijuana is a burnt offering to “the master of creation” and represents one of the many gifts given to mankind. While many choose to smoke the herb, he stressed it can also be used for medicine, clothing, lumber, paint and textiles among other things. “There will always be people with differing opinions. When slavery was abolished, there were differences in opinion, when we proposed an NIS [National Insurance Scheme], there were differences in opinion and when people put forward free education, there were differences in opinion,” he said in response to naysayers. Another business owner in Temple Yard who asked to be identified only as ‘Rastafari’ described marijuana as a spiritual sacrament, which “gives a relaxing feeling, flourishes your mind with plenty thoughts and provides healing”. “I feel great and honestly it’s something that should have been done a long time ago. I am just glad to see it coming to pass that we finally get our rights as rastafari,” she said in response to the recent announcement. “There has been too much brutality and unfairness for just a plant. I have seen too much of it and I am happy the people in higher authority realise it is not worth it. The brutality that has come on us for this plant is not worth it. I have seen men snatched up and hit into the ground and given some really hard blows just for a ‘spliff’.” (BT)

ENLIGHTENED RASTAFARI – Like many who were teenagers in the 1970s, the Rastafarian idea, promoted through reggae music, was popular. Their claim to follow the teachings of the Bible convinced me that they were not only brothers in humanity, but brothers in faith. I researched their claims and was shocked to see “Jah” written in my Bible. During that period of my life, I talked about changing my name from Grenville to I-ville. However, I could not reconcile the idea of Haile Selassie (Ras Tafari) being Christ. So, we diverged on that one, but critical point of faith. During that time, I used to walk from Combermere School to the QEH after school. My mother worked as a nurse in the paediatrics department, caring for babies. I would sit among the patients waiting for her to finish her work. She would often tell me about the babies of the Rastafarians, who would needlessly suffer because they were fed nuts. What distressed her was the Rastas’ insistence on feeding their babies nuts, despite the obvious and apparent harm. I think that they have now wised-up, but their current state of enlightenment was no comfort to the babies who suffered unnecessarily, through their stubborn ignorance. The Rastafarians have made smoking marijuana part of their religious tradition. My primary concern is the safety of their children. Our lungs are not designed for smoke. That is why we tend to cough it out when exposed. Our bodies are designed to adapt to different environments, even smoke-filled ones. However, we normally pay a health price that may increase with increased exposure to a harmful environment. Some like to justify unpopular decisions by claiming that we are going where the science takes us. Well, science has proven, beyond doubt, that smoking is very unhealthy for humans. Further, it is extremely harmful to our children. To have our children exposed to either first-hand or second-hand smoke is even more irresponsible than feeding babies nuts. It was previously done through pure ignorance. The decision to legalise marijuana for religious purposes is not a Rastafarian issue, it is one that affects us all. Rastas get to smoke, but the public is burdened with increased taxes to pay for their children’s health costs, and all the other social costs associated with the abuse of the marijuana plant. There are two options for addressing this issue. The first is to prostitute for the Rastafarian vote by forcing through poorly thought-out legislation. The second option is to encourage and participate in an honest discussion on achieving a win-win situation wherever possible. But that will require both sides to be honest. Some topics that can be put on the table are: Is it mandatory for the marijuana plant to be smoked as part of the ritual – if so, then why? Can it be made into a tea – if not, then why not? Can it be diluted sufficiently so that everyone can drink it without any harmful health effects – if not, then why not? If our desire is to know the truth, then we should submit claims of truth to honest research. Truth should be able to withstand rigorous scrutiny. I love the Rastafarian community too much to blindly support badly thought-out ideas. That they are promoting this as a Rastafarian-only issue means that neither they, nor the Attorney General, have properly thought this through. Grenville Phillips II is a Chartered Structural Engineer and President of Solutions Barbados. He can be reached at [email protected]. (BT)

MEDICAL CANNABIS FOR 20,000 – Thousands of patients are to be given cannabis in the first large-scale study of the drug’s clinical effect. Medical cannabis, which is grown to a precise grade of active ingredient, was legalised in the UK a year ago. But only a handful of patients have since been prescribed the drug on the NHS because of what medical authorities have called a “paucity of evidence” that it works and is safe. The only option for patients is to either source cannabis illegally, and risk prosecution, or pay for a private prescription of the drug. The new study, called Project Twenty21, will subsidise cannabis for 20,000 patients to test its impact on seven conditions: chronic pain, multiple sclerosis, epilepsy, post-traumatic stress disorder, Tourette’s syndrome, anxiety disorder and substance abuse. Professor David Nutt of the organisation Drug Science, which is running the study, told Sky News: “I believe cannabis is going to be the most important innovation in medicine for the rest of my life. “Cannabis medicines can be life saving in disorders like severe childhood epilepsy. There are children who have died in this country in the last couple of years because they haven’t had access to cannabis. It’s outrageous, it’s unnecessary and we want to rectify it.” Lucy Stafford used to suffer severe chronic pain from the genetic connective tissue disorder Ehlers Danlos syndrome, which meant she could dislocate her joints simply by rolling over in bed. She was treated with opioid drugs, but they had little effect and had serious side effects. Since paying privately for medical cannabis, at a cost of £800 a month, her pain has reduced so much that she has stopped other treatments and started university. She told Sky News: “Now I can get up in the morning and even if I’m in the most unbearable amount of pain and feel like passing out and being sick, I can take my medication and be able to function and focus and live my life. If other medications were effective for us, we wouldn’t need this. “But the whole point is that everything that is currently being offered, such as opiates, diazepam and other horrible medications, just do not manage the conditions that we are living with. Medical cannabis does.” But the Project Twenty21 study will have to overcome medical scepticism. The clinical watchdog NICE said cannabis should not be prescribed for a range of medical conditions, including chronic pain. The new study has, however, been backed by the leading body of psychiatrists. Professor Wendy Burn, President of the Royal College of Psychiatrists, said: “The College welcomes this pilot project which it hopes will make an important contribution towards addressing the paucity of evidence for the use of cannabis-based medicinal products. “We hope that this pilot, along with other research such as more much-needed randomised control trials, will continue to build the evidence.”Medical cannabis was legalised last November following a series of high-profile cases, including eight-year-old Alfie Dingley, whose mother claimed the drug eased his severe epilepsy. Source:https://www.healtheuropa.eu/project-twenty21-launches/94695/ ; https://news.sky.com/story/cannabis-to-be-given-to-patients-in-first-study-of-drugs-clinical-effect-11855844 (BT)

CHECKING THE “B” WORD – The inbox of the National Organization of Women has had a significant amount of work over the last few hours. We have chastising comments, comments beseeching us to see the Caribbean humour in the way we do things, comments pondering whether we are serious and comments asking how Barbados remains in the dark ages while the world progresses. We live in the days of President Trump and social media. In other words, we live precariously on reality. It is not just enough to protect oneself against fake news. We also sometimes have to worry about the audacity of real news! I will demonstrate what I mean. Many have been drawing my attention to what seemed to be a legitimate Barbados advertising campaign in England. The ad seems to be sponsored by Virgin Atlantic but I say it is an approved government campaign because I am sure Virgin would have to be guided by authorities on how they represent brand Barbados. The words of the advertisement read, “We don’t mention the ‘B’ word unless it is followed by ‘arbados’”. I think many of my readers know by now that I am entirely fascinated with the endeavour of language. Even outside of the complaints that had been raised, I sought to follow the play on words around the room as it were. Sometimes in zeal to be politically correct, I concede that we can go too far left – take a joke for more than it was worth. So I sat, and I pondered the ad. I started to think of all the ‘B’ words that are linked to Barbados – beaches, beauty, our very own Banks beer. I quickly cycled through the positive connotations and all of them failed to fit the profile of what a ‘B’ word could be. I think the exercise also quickly became one in futility because common knowledge of our linguistic environment also hinders the selection of any word except the profanity we refer to as ‘the B word’. I am completely alarmed that this advertisement made it through proofreading and managerial checks and balances to end up on the streets of England. It smacks of the gender insensitivity that continues to characterise the Barbadian culture. This ‘B’ word has been a branding liberally assigned to any woman in this space, especially one seen as ‘black and strong’ as punishment for her audacity. Many people believe that we no longer should talk about these things because we now have a female Prime Minister and it is only a matter of time before these things iron themselves out. Unfortunately, the destruction of the system of patriarchal domination that fuels the views about women and which ones can be categorized by which ‘B’ words is not such a simplistic endeavour. Even when small gains are being made in the general views of individuals, still far too many people are unwilling to check a person who steps outside of the bonds of dignity in their treatment of women and girls. Women themselves fail to stand up in defence of a sister who may be accosted. Indeed, we end up with advertisements at the international level that make embarrassing guffaws. I don’t think it is accidental that it is driven by the entrenched and unchallenged views about women. Until both women and men are strong enough to stand up and say to problematic individuals that their behaviour is unacceptable, we will not challenge the ingrained culture of patriarchy. Until brand Barbados is scoured and shrouded in gender sensitivity and dignity, we cannot challenge patriarchy. Until our Parliament is gender sensitive in more than word alone, a switch out man for woman alone will not be adequate. A few weeks ago when we were in a flurry about a cursing that was recorded on social media, I made the point that the colour of the woman involved was not the takeaway. Men in Barbados are still allowed to drop slurs at women in an unchecked and culturally acceptable way. That was the takeaway. There is nothing wrong with the ‘B’ word in Barbados, especially when it is levelled against a perceived ‘out of place’ woman. That was the takeaway then, and it is the takeaway now and the entire English posse gets to watch the best of beautiful Barbados brilliantly! Marsha Hinds is the President of the National Organisation of Women. (BT)

IMF, PRIME MINISTER AGREE: ECONOMY ON TRACK – A day after co-finance minister Ryan Straughn declared the economy back on track, his senior partner in the ministry – Prime Minister Mia Amor Mottley – was joined in agreement with a top International Monetary Fund official. IMF Deputy Managing Director Tao Zhang, one of the four deputy heads of the Washington-based international financial institution, affirmed the Prime Minister’s position after they met to discuss the implementation of the IMF-sanctioned Barbados Economic Recovery and Transformation (BERT) programme. In an interview with the Barbados Government Information Service, Mottley said: “I think we are both satisfied that we are on track. “The country hears me saying all the time that they need to stay the course and we have to stay the course, but we are happy with where we are going. “We understand where we have capacity limitations and we are trying to fix them, in conjunction with the Fund, who really has been a good partner for Barbados, by allowing us to execute this homegrown programme in circumstances that are peculiar to our attributes as a small nation state and we are grateful for that.” She praised the IMF officials for understanding that BERT is not a one-size-fits-all prescription for the country. Two days ago, Government launched its external debt exchange, which is expected to close by the end of this month. The Prime Minister said Barbados’ ability to put the debt restructuring exercise completely behind it would allow Government to move fully into the next stage of the BERT programme. She said: “This would be to complete the structural changes that we have in our regulatory structure to make it easier, not just to do business, but for Barbadians to enjoy services that are delivered to them on a daily basis. “Secondly, for us to focus completely on the projects that are necessary to do the transformation, be it the transformation of our people through the continuous training in the National Training Initiative over the next four years, or the physical infrastructural projects that are absolutely critical to both accessing services or the delivery of jobs in the tourism sector and other areas of the new economy, be it the medical cannabis or renewable energy.” Congratulating the Government on its efforts to stabilise the economy and move forward with the reforms, Zhang said: “We are glad to be a part of the process, to be your partners and we remain committed to supporting and moving ahead together with you. “As you said, there is a lot of work that needs to be done in the future, and we will remain as committed, as ready and as prepared to move ahead.” The senior Government officials overseeing the economy, including Minister in the Ministry of Finance Ryan Straughn, Minister of Economic Affairs and Investment Marsha Caddle and Director of Finance Ian Carrington were joined by the IMF’s Director of the Western Hemisphere Department Alejandro Werner and Mission Chief Bert van Selm. Zhang also attended the one-day 2019 Caribbean Forum on Regional Transformation for Inclusive and Sustainable Growth, which was hosted jointly by Government, the Caribbean Development Bank and the IMF. (BT)

SMART BRIDGETOWN – ‘Smart Bridgetown’ – the Government’s promised project to link people to free high-speed internet access, has been given the thumbs up by an organisation that pioneered a similar initiative nearly a decade ago. The chair of the Barbados Entrepreneurship Foundation (BEF), Celeste Foster, said Smart Bridgetown matched perfectly with her not-for-profit organisation’s own free Wi-Fi project that was started in late 2010 towards helping to improve business facilitation. The first phase of the million-dollar Smart Bridgetown project, which Government said is to roll out by next month, will see free broadband Internet access being extended from the Bridgetown Port to Independence Square. Under the project, officials are also hoping to roll out smart parking solutions, a mobile app and an augmentation programme for The City. Foster declared Barbados the “most connected island in the western hemisphere” as a result of the BEF’s project. The foundation reported that at the end of 2013, the island had achieved a 93 per cent penetration through meeting the target of ensuring free Wi-Fi is within a one-kilometre range of each resident. Foster said Government’s plan of transforming the capital into a smart city was most welcome. She said: “When we started out we had a vision 2020… and we are talking about a smart Bridgetown which is one of our pillars. “We are so pleased because we had gone on to have smart bus stops and the BEF was behind that, the driving force behind getting the Wi-Fi at bus stops. “So we have been behind it quietly. And we are very pleased to see this particular initiative.” “We are able now to say we are ticking off the boxes as we approach 2020 and we have been able to achieve several of those goals that we set out to do.” (BT)

BANKS BREWERIES NOT SOLD – Banks Holdings Limited (BHL) says its subsidiary Banks (Barbados) Breweries Ltd has not been sold. BHL yesterday said a “rumour” claiming that the brewery, now owned by AMBEV, had a new buyer, was “completely false”. “The rumours that our subsidiary, Banks (Barbados) Breweries Ltd, has been sold are completely false. Banks Holdings Limited and its subsidiaries, remain a part of AMBEV,” an official said. “We heard this rumour as well when we announced the joint venture distribution company in September.” Brazil-based AMBEV, through subsidiary SLU Beverages, acquired a majority stake in BHL in 2015 after a takeover battle involving Trinidad and Tobago conglomerate ANSA McAL. (WN)

LOWER UNEMPLOYMENT BEFORE MANAGED MIGRATION – Prime Minister Mia Mottley’s push for managed migration of CARICOM nationals into Barbados as an answer to the island’s underpopulation problem, has been slammed by Opposition Leader Bishop Joseph Atherley, as “insensitive to out-of-work Barbadians.” In an interview with Barbados TODAY, Atherley contended that Mottley’s message was insensitive to the hundreds of Barbadians unable to find work. He further noted that the Prime Minister’s focus should first be on opening new sectors for unemployed Barbadians, before any attempt is made to turn attention outwards. “That message is not suited for this particular time. We are in a situation in Barbados where we cannot employ the numbers of people that we need to see employed. We have not opened up significantly, any new avenues of enterprise and industry in Barbados. We are still reliant on the traditional sectors, in particular, tourism. So I do not understand how you can be making it a priority message of yours, that we need to have a situation of managed migration, so that we can treat to the eventuality of having greater numbers in our population to facilitate our development,” said Atherley. The Opposition Leader suggested that the Prime Minister’s position was essentially a slap in the face of the public workers who were retrenched under the Barbados Economic Recovery and Transformation (BERT) programme. “You have people at the public service who were sent home under this BERT programme, you have people that have been sent home by the private sector. The economic situation in Barbados now, especially if you look with reference to the impact of taxation, is such that people are being laid off and sent home. We have thousands of people coming out of the secondary school system and at the tertiary level every year, and these persons cannot find work. So, this message of managed migration is not the right one,” he said. Speaking at a Regional Forum on Transformation at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre earlier this week, Mottley said, Barbados does not have enough people producing on a daily basis to be able to make the transformation that it needs to carry the country to the next level. “And that is why, on a sustained basis, I take the responsibility as lead Prime Minister for the CARICOM Single Market and Single Economy as passionately as I take the responsibility for the domestic affairs of this country… for the two are inextricably linked.” However, Atherley contended that Government should instead be focused on treating to the education system, ensuring that it produces persons who are able to fill sectors that are deficient in requisite skilled labour. He argued that within the traditional sectors, Barbadians were only finding low-level work and the time had come for Government to re-orient and re-train Barbadians so that they could build out new sectors. “Treat to the education system and treat to the matter of development of skill and knowledge bases in non-traditional areas. It is not a simple quick resort to bring persons in. I am all for welcoming our brothers and sisters from the Caribbean. I am a regionalist and an integrationist, and I support the free movement of people whole-heartedly. All I am saying is that having invested so heavily in our education system and with the number of people coming out of that system every year, the priority message cannot be to bring in more persons and add more numbers,” Atherley stressed. He added, “Our developmental orientation needs to be re-examined. Where are we? In this new era of new sectoral development with respect to energy, with respect to technology and even the creative economy, we have got to address the product that we are producing. We also have to try to bring people into ownership so that we could have a greater volume of self-business.” (BT)

COCKROACH VIDEO CAUSES STIR - Members of Alexandra’s Second Division cricket team are reportedly being disciplined for what concerned parents say is their role in disseminating a video on social media showing numerous cockroaches on the walls of the St Peter school. The video went viral over the weekend and was shared on WhatsApp, Facebook and Instagram. The cockroaches surfaced after heavy and persistent rainfall at the secondary school. A member of the cricket team is said to be responsible for sharing the video. Several upset parents complained to Barbados TODAY following an alleged decision by the school’s principal Orson Alleyne to force the cricket team to forfeit their match against Combermere on Saturday. They said the boys, ranging from first to sixth formers, were called into a meeting with the principal this evening where they were given the news. When contacted by Barbados TODAY, Alleyne neither confirmed nor denied that he had taken the decision for the team to forfeit the match. He however denied punishing the team. “I am not aware of any student at the Alexandra School being disciplined for any issue regarding that video,” he stated. He maintained that members of the cricket team were not being disciplined for their role in sending out the video. “Whoever shared that information, you should allow them to inform you if I have a meeting or an alleged meeting in my office. I can call students to have a meeting at any point, so I don’t know who would have informed you about that,” the principal said. “I was having meetings with students in the school concerning a matter which I think I need to discuss with them and the reality is that I think at the appropriate time any decision that I deem is necessary will be made.” When pressed again as to if the Alexandra team would play Saturday’s game against Combermere, Alleyne reiterated that the team was not being punished. But one irate parent whose son is on the team told Barbados TODAY she did not understand why the boys were being disciplined. She contended that they had done nothing wrong. “I’m at a loss as to why the cricket team has to forfeit their match. What did they do that was wrong?” she questioned. “By doing this the principal is sending a message to those boys that they are not to speak up when they see something wrong. He is telling them that they should be silent or should turn their backs when they see something wrong happening!” In fact, she said the principal should have lauded the boys for bringing the problem to his attention so it could be rectified. Another disgruntled mother said she felt the principal had not handled the situation well. She too agreed that the boys had done nothing to merit punishment, adding that the principal could have used the opportunity to speak to the cricketers. “Even if he had spoken to them and told them that there was no need to send out the video I would understand, but to punish them by not letting them play cricket on Saturday isn’t fair,” she told Barbados TODAY. “What if that had happened a day when all the students were at school, what would he have done? He would have suspended the entire school?” (BT)

TRUST ISSUES – If police want to regain the confidence of persons living in ‘at risk communities’ they have to improve the standard of their policing and forge stronger relationships with those residents. That was one of the recommendations coming out of two studies by criminologist Kim Ramsay and University of the West Indies lecturer and researcher Dr Dwayne Devonish. Using data gathered from the studies, the duo revealed that persons from six communities across Barbados considered to be high-risk, believed they could not trust the Royal Barbados Police Force (RBPF).The communities targeted were the Pine, Orleans, Deacons, Eden Lodge and Chapman Lane, all in St Michael and Wotton in Christ Church. Speaking at the release of the findings of the merged studies entitled Criminal Victimization and Fear of Crime in At Risk Communities at the UWI Graduate Studies’ building this morning, Ramsay cautioned that failure by law enforcement to mend that relationship could result in the uprising of a don. She said it was in that manner that Christopher Dudus Coke rose to become one of the most powerful drug lords in Jamaica. “We cannot afford to be like Jamaica and have a don takeover a community,” Ramsay warned. Dr Devonish said it was important for police to have the trust of all Barbadians, especially those residing in “low class” communities. “We made recommendations to a key player in the criminal justice system and that is the RBPF. The fact that there is a bigger call for improving the relationships between policing and not just community policing, but policing in general. “You have conflicts often time between what the community police officer wants to do and what a general police instruction or instructive might have come from to go into communities and intervene and then the two are not collaborating, so you are sending mixed signals to the community,” Dr Devonish explained. “There is also a call for increased training of police officers when it comes to community relations.” Other recommendations also included the establishment of a community driven National Taskforce on Communities Against Crime, the implementation of stronger sports programmes and the establishment of programmes suited to the needs of residents. Ramsay said while persons outside of those communities considered them to be hotspots for criminal activities, 65 per cent of the residents in those communities said they felt safe while only 15 per cent said they felt unsafe. “We found that the majority of persons in those communities were not fearful of crime in their communities. What I found interesting about this study is that even though persons were not fearful of crime there was crime all around them,” Ramsay pointed out. “That means in my opinion that they have become numb to the crime in their communities.” The study found that while Chapman Lane and the Orleans had the most ‘blocks’ and Wotton was least likely to have disorder, Eden Lodge had grown to become a problematic area. “Residents of Chapman Lane and Eden Lodge expressed the most fear as it related to walking alone in the community after dark…and when I spoke to persons who went and did the interviews, especially in Eden Lodge, they said the people are extremely concerned with the level of crime in their community. “They are concerned about it because there are shootings there almost every day,” she outlined. Ramsay said shootings and guns were the biggest concern among residents living in those communities. (BT)

TEARFUL ACCUSED GETS BAIL – A 56-year-old man must stay at least 200 yards away from a female complaiant. The order was handed down on Jeffery Adolphus Odle, of Grazettes Main, Road, St Michael when he reappeared in the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court. He is accused of unlawfully entering the premises of Lizina Juman on November 2 after she had forbidden him to do so. He pleaded not guilty to the charge. The prosecution argued against bail saying that this was the second time the accused was before the court for the same complainant. However, in a tearful plea Odle informed Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant that his wife had recently passed away and he needed to put things in place. The prosecution then withdrew its submissions given Odle’s situation but asked that conditions be imposed. The accused must now also stay away from Juman’s premises as well as her work place. Odle was granted $1,000 bail which he secured with one surety to reappear before the court on January 13, 2020.(BT)

CLOSING ARGUMENTS TOMORROW – Two accused closed their case today after hearing the evidence from their last witness in the No. 2 Supreme Court. John Andre Medford, of Silver Hill and Jamar Ganesh Nervais, of Harper’s Land, Sergeant Village both in Christ Church are accused of entering the St James home of Anthony White with intent to commit theft. It is also alleged that they had a firearm and a knife at the time of the offence on July 14, 2017. Tomorrow, the two men will make closing submissions before the nine-member jury hearing their case. It is then expected that the presiding judge, Justice Christopher Birch will give the summation before the jury deliberates on Monday. Today, Leross Burnett took the stand as a witness for the defence. He revealed that he was at karaoke at JJ’s Bar in Sergeant Village, Christ Church on July 14 when a fight broke out between two women, one of whom he said was his former girlfriend. “At one point in time we were in a relationship.” The fight, he said, occurred 4 a.m. and he saw Nervais “on Thursday and Friday . . . [and] I saw you [Medford] after four or five morning time you got into a car.”. The case, in which Senior Crown Counsel Olivia Davis is the prosecutor, continues tomorrow at 9 a.m. (BT)

CHEFS AND BARTENDERS WANTED – Local chefs and bartenders interested in being members of the award-winning Barbados Culinary Team will have that opportunity when the Barbados Hotel and Tourism Association’s (BHTA) Barbados Culinary Competition comes off this month. The first leg will see the chefs cook-off on November 21 and 22, while the bartenders will be in action on December 5. The titles up for grabs include Chef of the Year, Bartender of the Year, Pastry Chef of the Year and Junior Chef of the Year. The deadline for entries is this Friday, November 8. BHTA’s CEO Senator Rudy Grant explained, “The competition is held bi-annually and is open to BHTA members only. As members of the Barbados Culinary Team, winners will go through extensive training to prepare them to represent Barbados at local, regional and international culinary and bartender competitions, exhibitions and food and beverage events. “This includes competing at the prestigious 2020 Taste of the Caribbean Culinary Competition, which takes place in June in Miami. There, they will compete for the honour of Caribbean Team of the Year, Chef of the Year, Pastry Chef of the Year, Bartender of the Year and Junior Chef of the Year, among other titles.” Last year’s Team brought home ten awards, including the prestigious title of Caribbean Team of the Year in addition to Team Gold, Caribbean Bartender of the Year Gold, Silver in the Caribbean Chef of the Year, Junior Chef of the Year and Pastry Chef of the Year as well as in the Individual beef and chocolate categories. Other awards included Bronze in the Individual Seafood category and first prize in the US Meat Export Federation Contemporary Caribbean Street Pork Competition – Pork Belly category. The 2019 Team is made up of Chefs Nicolas Ifill, Damian Leach, D’Sean Miller, Shanese Phoenix, Shamar Bishop, Jamal Whittaker, Junior Chef Kiara Riley, Mixologist Alexander Chandler as well as Team Manager Chef Henderson Butcher, Team Training Manager Assistant – Chef Glenroy Alleyne, Bartender Training Manager – Mixologist Ryan Adamson and Training Assistant – Chef Andre Nurse. Taste of the Caribbean is the region’s annual premier culinary competition, food and beverage educational exchange and Caribbean cultural showcase which provides a forum for food and beverage professionals to gather practical information, develop skills and participate in innovative and exciting educational sessions. (BT)

HATS OFF – Hilton Barbados Resort rewarded and acknowledged the outstanding performances and contribution of over 150 of its long-standing team members at the resort’s awards ceremony and luncheon recently. The awardees who came from various departments including Engineering, Finance, Food and Beverage, Human Resources, Front Office, Housekeeping, Kitchen, Stewarding, Security, Recreation, Reservations and Sales and Marketing were rewarded for five and ten years of service with the property. In her address, General Manager Tammy LeBlanc thanked the awardees for their sterling contribution over the years. She said, “Today’s awards ceremony is a celebration of your commitment and dedication to Hilton and Hilton Barbados Resort. You are truly the fabric of who we are. You make up what Hilton Barbados Resort is and today is all about you. “The last year has been a very busy one as we focused on making things better and improving all areas that impact you. I met personally with the majority of team members in different forums and it was all about asking questions and listening. We wanted to know what areas needed improving so that we could find solutions to make Hilton Barbados Resort an even greater place to work.” LeBlanc added that the ultimate goal is to be the best Hilton in the Caribbean: “When people think about the Caribbean we want them to think of Hilton Barbados Resort. We want to take the hotel to a new level. We want to improve upon all facets of the resort, whether it is in our room service, our guest rooms and suites, outlets, food and beverage operations or our team member areas.” The GM reminded that 2020 will be a special year for Hilton Barbados as the resort will be celebrating its 15th anniversary since reopening. She continued, “When the hotel opened almost 15 years ago we were very relevant in what we were offering and we continue to maintain our relevancy and improve as the years go on. “Continuous improvement in all areas so that we remain on the cutting edge of five-star resorts is key. We have the supporting tools. We have a great campaign. We are purchasing equipment and moving ahead with renovation plans. So today, what I ask of each and every one of you is for your continued support as the hotel grows from strength to strength, as only you can make this happen.” (BT)

MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE – As we head into the Christmas season, many children are excited about what they are going to get. The Joy to Your World Essay Contest asks children aged 9-13 to think how they are bringing joy to their world, how they are helping their families, neighbours, communities and how we can all make a difference and make Barbados better. The goal is to recognize children who are making a difference in their communities, doing acts of kindness, helping others as well as to encourage everyone to think about doing the same, to have empathy, to be generous and giving, to take initiative, to make a contribution and make things better for others. Twelve-year-old Natanya Weekes who won the top prize last year, said in her winning essay, “We can make Barbados better by encouraging others to stop littering, stop violence and misuse of drugs, stop abusing children and start feeding those who are hungry.” She believes we must teach youth to be caring and loving, reasoning that if we love our neighbours we will not want to harm them. Wholesome activities such as sports, music, debating and volunteering are activities she feels can steer youth in a positive direction. In terms of what she personally is doing to help others, Natanya says, “My mother calls me a mother hen because I am always concerned about others. At church I am always helping the little ones to complete their work. I help my teacher at school and at home I help with chores.When my mother is sick, I help her by making breakfast. In my community, there is an after school care for the physically challenged. I donate books and toys for the children and play games and dance with them. I loved the interaction. It made them happy, and it is my greatest joy.” All the children who participate in the essay contest are recognized at an event called Joy! on Sunday, December 1 at the Searocks Dome in Maxwell. The event is open to the public and features face painting, a photo booth, pony rides, family drum circle, booths, music and food. It will be a fun family day! Prizes are awarded to the top three students and then the event ends with a sunset singalong concert featuring Lil’ Stathis, Faith Callender, Ascending Stars and more special guests. First time sponsor Managing Director of CGI Peter Harris said, “At CGI we love to support positive initiatives like this that highlight the great things that our children are doing. It’s so important to give them encouragement to be active in their communities.” Celebrating the fourth anniversary of the contest, organizer Ebonnie Rowe always looks forward to reading the heartfelt essays. “This event is very close to my heart. It’s so touching to see how these children are genuinely passionate about making a contribution, making a difference and being good citizens. It leaves you feeling very positive and optimistic about the future,” he said. For more information contact: [email protected] (BT)

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wrinklepaws-blog · 7 years ago

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A Short Introduction To Blockchain - For Normal Individuals

pump and dump telegram groups Crypto-what? If you've tried to dive into this mysterious matter called blockchain, you would be forgiven for recoiling in horror at the sheer opaqueness of the technical jargon that is typically utilised to frame it. So in advance of we get into what a crytpocurrency is and how blockchain technology could change the globe, let's explore what blockchain really is. In the most straightforward phrases, a blockchain is a digital ledger of transactions, not contrary to the ledgers we have been making use of for hundreds of a long time to history income and buys. The function of this electronic ledger is, in reality, quite significantly similar to a standard ledger in that it data debits and credits between persons. That is the core idea powering blockchain the variance is who holds the ledger and who verifies the transactions. With traditional transactions, a payment from one person to one more consists of some type of intermediary to aid the transaction. Let us say Rob desires to transfer £20 to Melanie. He can possibly give her dollars in the variety of a £20 notice, or he can use some type of banking app to transfer the cash specifically to her bank account. In both equally instances, a lender is the intermediary verifying the transaction: Rob's resources are confirmed when he normally takes the cash out of a cash device, or they are confirmed by the application when he can make the electronic transfer. The bank decides if the transaction should go forward. The bank also holds the history of all transactions manufactured by Rob, and is only accountable for updating it each time Rob pays somebody or gets funds into his account. In other terms, the financial institution retains and controls the ledger, and everything flows by way of the lender. That's a lot of accountability, so it truly is important that Rob feels he can rely on his lender normally he would not chance his income with them. He needs to really feel self-assured that the lender will not defraud him, will not drop his income, will not be robbed, and will not disappear overnight. This need to have for have faith in has underpinned fairly much every main behaviour and side of the monolithic finance industry, to the extent that even when it was found that banks had been becoming irresponsible with our dollars through the money disaster of 2008, the authorities (a different middleman) selected to bail them out rather than threat destroying the final fragments of believe in by allowing them collapse. Blockchains work in another way in just one key respect: they are solely decentralised. There is no central clearing property like a financial institution, and there is no central ledger held by just one entity. Instead, the ledger is distributed across a vast network of computer systems, called nodes, each of which retains a copy of the total ledger on their respective difficult drives. These nodes are related to 1 one more via a piece of software package called a peer-to-peer (P2P) client, which synchronises facts throughout the network of nodes and makes absolutely sure that every person has the similar model of the ledger at any presented position in time. When a new transaction is entered into a blockchain, it is initially encrypted using condition-of-the-art cryptographic know-how. After encrypted, the transaction is transformed to a thing known as a block, which is essentially the term used for an encrypted group of new transactions. That block is then despatched (or broadcast) into the community of computer nodes, in which it is verified by the nodes and, as soon as verified, passed on through the network so that the block can be additional to the finish of the ledger on everybody's laptop, less than the listing of all previous blocks. This is called the chain, for this reason the tech is referred to as a blockchain. The moment authorized and recorded into the ledger, the transaction can be concluded. This is how cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin function. Accountability and the removing of have confidence in What are the strengths of this method about a banking or central clearing method? Why would Rob use Bitcoin as a substitute of regular forex? The solution is rely on. As mentioned just before, with the banking process it is vital that Rob trusts his lender to defend his money and manage it correctly. To make certain this transpires, huge regulatory methods exist to validate the steps of the banking companies and make sure they are suit for function. Governments then control the regulators, creating a form of tiered technique of checks whose sole objective is to enable prevent blunders and negative conduct. In other words and phrases, organisations like the Financial Services Authority exist exactly due to the fact financial institutions can't be trusted on their individual. And banking companies commonly make errors and misbehave, as we have noticed as well quite a few times. When you have a one source of authority, energy tends to get abused or misused. The believe in romance between people and banking companies is uncomfortable and precarious: we do not seriously believe in them but we will not feel there is significantly option. Blockchain techniques, on the other hand, don't need to have you to have confidence in them at all. All transactions (or blocks) in a blockchain are confirmed by the nodes in the network in advance of getting extra to the ledger, which implies there is no solitary point of failure and no single approval channel. If a hacker wished to productively tamper with the ledger on a blockchain, they would have to concurrently hack tens of millions of pcs, which is nearly impossible. A hacker would also be pretty substantially not able to provide a blockchain community down, as, all over again, they would need to be in a position to shut down each solitary laptop in a network of computer systems distributed about the world. The encryption approach itself is also a important factor. Blockchains like the Bitcoin just one use deliberately hard procedures for their verification procedure. In the scenario of Bitcoin, blocks are verified by nodes carrying out a deliberately processor- and time-intense sequence of calculations, generally in the variety of puzzles or sophisticated mathematical issues, which mean that verification is neither immediate nor obtainable. Nodes that do dedicate the resource to verification of blocks are rewarded with a transaction payment and a bounty of newly-minted Bitcoins. This has the perform of each incentivising folks to turn into nodes (mainly because processing blocks like this involves fairly effective desktops and a whole lot of electricity), although also managing the process of producing - or minting - units of the forex. This is referred to as mining, mainly because it entails a sizeable sum of hard work (by a computer system, in this case) to make a new commodity. It also signifies that transactions are verified by the most independent way doable, additional independent than a governing administration-regulated organisation like the FSA. This decentralised, democratic and very safe nature of blockchains implies that they can perform with no the need for regulation (they are self-regulating), authorities or other opaque middleman. They get the job done since individuals don't have faith in every other, fairly than in spite of. Permit the importance of that sink in for a whilst and the exhilaration close to blockchain starts off to make sense. Smart contracts Where factors get actually intriguing is the purposes of blockchain past cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin. Offered that one particular of the underlying principles of the blockchain method is the safe, unbiased verification of a transaction, it's uncomplicated to imagine other approaches in which this sort of process can be worthwhile. Unsurprisingly, numerous these kinds of purposes are previously in use or progress. Some of the very best ones are: Sensible contracts (Ethereum): most likely the most thrilling blockchain improvement soon after Bitcoin, sensible contracts are blocks that include code that have to be executed in get for the contract to be fulfilled. The code can be anything at all, as extended as a laptop can execute it, but in simple phrases it indicates that you can use blockchain technology (with its impartial verification, trustless architecture and safety) to generate a kind of escrow technique for any form of transaction. As an example, if you happen to be a web designer you could generate a agreement that verifies if a new client's web page is introduced or not, and then mechanically release the funds to you once it is. No much more chasing or invoicing. Clever contracts are also staying employed to establish ownership of an asset this sort of as assets or art. The prospective for lowering fraud with this approach is enormous. Cloud storage (Storj): cloud computing has revolutionised the internet and brought about the arrival of Huge Knowledge which has, in turn, kick commenced the new AI revolution. But most cloud-based mostly programs are run on servers stored in solitary-site server farms, owned by a one entity (Amazon, Rackspace, Google and so forth). This offers all the similar problems as the banking program, in that you knowledge is controlled by a single, opaque organisation which signifies a single stage of failure. Distributing facts on a blockchain removes the have faith in situation totally and also promises to improve dependability as it is so a lot more durable to get a blockchain community down. Electronic identification (ShoCard): two of the biggest concerns of our time are discover theft and information defense. With wide centralised providers these as Facebook holding so considerably knowledge about us, and initiatives by several developed-globe governments to store digital data about their citizens in a central database, the potential for abuse of our personalized info is terrifying. Blockchain technology provides a prospective solution to this by wrapping your key data up into an encrypted block that can be verified by the blockchain network anytime you need to have to show your identity. The applications of this assortment from the clear substitute of passports and I.D. playing cards to other parts this kind of as changing passwords. It could be large. Report Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9690855

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classsicrockfan93-blog · 7 years ago

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A Quick Introduction To Blockchain - For Typical Folks

pump and dump telegram groups Crypto-what? If you've attempted to dive into this mysterious point called blockchain, you would be forgiven for recoiling in horror at the sheer opaqueness of the specialized jargon that is frequently applied to body it. So before we get into what a crytpocurrency is and how blockchain technological innovation may possibly adjust the planet, let's examine what blockchain really is. In the most straightforward phrases, a blockchain is a electronic ledger of transactions, not not like the ledgers we have been using for hundreds of years to history income and purchases. The purpose of this electronic ledger is, in simple fact, very much equivalent to a regular ledger in that it documents debits and credits involving people. That is the core idea guiding blockchain the variation is who holds the ledger and who verifies the transactions. With regular transactions, a payment from a single person to yet another entails some form of intermediary to facilitate the transaction. Let us say Rob desires to transfer £20 to Melanie. He can possibly give her cash in the variety of a £20 notice, or he can use some variety of banking app to transfer the funds immediately to her lender account. In equally cases, a financial institution is the middleman verifying the transaction: Rob's cash are verified when he takes the funds out of a money equipment, or they are confirmed by the app when he would make the digital transfer. The financial institution decides if the transaction must go in advance. The financial institution also retains the document of all transactions created by Rob, and is solely dependable for updating it every time Rob pays a person or receives income into his account. In other terms, the lender holds and controls the ledger, and everything flows by means of the financial institution. That is a ton of responsibility, so it really is crucial that Rob feels he can have faith in his bank or else he would not danger his income with them. He requirements to come to feel confident that the financial institution will not defraud him, will not get rid of his money, will not be robbed, and will not disappear overnight. This want for rely on has underpinned very a lot just about every main behaviour and facet of the monolithic finance business, to the extent that even when it was learned that banking institutions were being being irresponsible with our dollars during the financial disaster of 2008, the government (a different middleman) chose to bail them out instead than risk destroying the final fragments of have confidence in by letting them collapse. Blockchains work in a different way in 1 essential regard: they are entirely decentralised. There is no central clearing house like a financial institution, and there is no central ledger held by one particular entity. As a substitute, the ledger is dispersed across a extensive community of computer systems, known as nodes, every single of which retains a copy of the whole ledger on their respective challenging drives. These nodes are linked to 1 yet another via a piece of application known as a peer-to-peer (P2P) shopper, which synchronises data across the community of nodes and can make confident that most people has the similar version of the ledger at any presented position in time. When a new transaction is entered into a blockchain, it is 1st encrypted working with state-of-the-artwork cryptographic technological innovation. As soon as encrypted, the transaction is converted to some thing referred to as a block, which is fundamentally the time period employed for an encrypted group of new transactions. That block is then despatched (or broadcast) into the network of computer nodes, exactly where it is confirmed by the nodes and, once confirmed, passed on via the community so that the block can be additional to the end of the ledger on everybody's personal computer, underneath the checklist of all prior blocks. This is referred to as the chain, for this reason the tech is referred to as a blockchain. The moment accredited and recorded into the ledger, the transaction can be done. This is how cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin operate. Accountability and the removing of believe in What are the positive aspects of this program about a banking or central clearing method? Why would Rob use Bitcoin alternatively of typical forex? The response is rely on. As mentioned prior to, with the banking process it is crucial that Rob trusts his financial institution to protect his dollars and manage it correctly. To guarantee this comes about, monumental regulatory programs exist to validate the actions of the financial institutions and assure they are in shape for goal. Governments then control the regulators, producing a form of tiered method of checks whose sole reason is to aid avert blunders and undesirable conduct. In other text, organisations like the Financial Solutions Authority exist exactly mainly because banks are unable to be dependable on their personal. And financial institutions frequently make mistakes and misbehave, as we have witnessed too several occasions. When you have a single source of authority, electrical power tends to get abused or misused. The have faith in romantic relationship involving individuals and banks is awkward and precarious: we never genuinely have confidence in them but we never feel there is considerably choice. Blockchain methods, on the other hand, will not need you to have confidence in them at all. All transactions (or blocks) in a blockchain are verified by the nodes in the community prior to being additional to the ledger, which suggests there is no one place of failure and no one approval channel. If a hacker desired to successfully tamper with the ledger on a blockchain, they would have to concurrently hack tens of millions of computer systems, which is almost difficult. A hacker would also be pretty substantially not able to provide a blockchain network down, as, once again, they would need to have to be ready to shut down just about every solitary pc in a community of personal computers dispersed all around the entire world. The encryption procedure alone is also a critical component. Blockchains like the Bitcoin one particular use intentionally challenging processes for their verification process. In the scenario of Bitcoin, blocks are confirmed by nodes performing a intentionally processor- and time-intense sequence of calculations, often in the type of puzzles or sophisticated mathematical issues, which mean that verification is neither instant nor obtainable. Nodes that do commit the resource to verification of blocks are rewarded with a transaction price and a bounty of freshly-minted Bitcoins. This has the functionality of the two incentivising individuals to turn out to be nodes (mainly because processing blocks like this requires very strong personal computers and a good deal of electrical power), although also managing the process of generating - or minting - models of the currency. This is referred to as mining, mainly because it involves a considerable quantity of energy (by a personal computer, in this case) to develop a new commodity. It also indicates that transactions are verified by the most independent way feasible, additional unbiased than a govt-regulated organisation like the FSA. This decentralised, democratic and extremely secure nature of blockchains suggests that they can function devoid of the want for regulation (they are self-regulating), governing administration or other opaque intermediary. They perform because people don't trust every single other, relatively than in spite of. Let the significance of that sink in for a whilst and the pleasure close to blockchain begins to make perception. Sensible contracts Wherever issues get genuinely exciting is the programs of blockchain past cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin. Given that 1 of the fundamental rules of the blockchain system is the protected, independent verification of a transaction, it can be effortless to think about other strategies in which this kind of process can be valuable. Unsurprisingly, several this kind of applications are already in use or growth. Some of the best ones are: Wise contracts (Ethereum): possibly the most exciting blockchain progress right after Bitcoin, clever contracts are blocks that include code that should be executed in buy for the deal to be fulfilled. The code can be anything at all, as prolonged as a computer can execute it, but in easy terms it means that you can use blockchain technological innovation (with its independent verification, trustless architecture and safety) to create a kind of escrow system for any form of transaction. As an example, if you might be a net designer you could produce a contract that verifies if a new client's site is released or not, and then routinely release the cash to you once it is. No far more chasing or invoicing. Wise contracts are also staying employed to prove possession of an asset these kinds of as house or art. The possible for minimizing fraud with this tactic is tremendous. Cloud storage (Storj): cloud computing has revolutionised the world-wide-web and brought about the introduction of Big Facts which has, in flip, kick commenced the new AI revolution. But most cloud-primarily based systems are run on servers saved in solitary-location server farms, owned by a single entity (Amazon, Rackspace, Google and so on). This presents all the identical challenges as the banking process, in that you knowledge is managed by a solitary, opaque organisation which signifies a one place of failure. Distributing information on a blockchain gets rid of the have confidence in problem fully and also claims to improve trustworthiness as it is so considerably more difficult to just take a blockchain network down. Digital identification (ShoCard): two of the greatest difficulties of our time are identify theft and data defense. With huge centralised providers this sort of as Fb keeping so much knowledge about us, and efforts by numerous produced-globe governments to store digital data about their citizens in a central databases, the prospective for abuse of our personal knowledge is terrifying. Blockchain technological innovation delivers a potential solution to this by wrapping your essential facts up into an encrypted block that can be verified by the blockchain network every time you need to have to demonstrate your identification. The applications of this range from the apparent alternative of passports and I.D. playing cards to other areas this kind of as replacing passwords. It could be big. Report Resource: http://EzineArticles.com/9690855

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Change Has To Be About Becoming More Of Who You Are

Say goodbye to emotional unavailability & hello to loving relationships.

When we’ve spent our whole life (or much of it), doubting our worth and how ‘enough’ we are, the prospect of change, even when it’s something that we recognise as being beneficial and even critical, can seem like yet another thing that highlights what’s wrong with us.

It’s not unusual to have a negative association with change, possibly because we had significant or even traumatic life events that have made us sensitive to change, but often because we feel as if we have never really been accepted for who we are whether it’s by us or by others. Yet once we identify that we’ve pretended to troth something that we’re not to blend in as well as to assistance mind, affection, validation , love etc ., we would troth surprisingly joined to the defense of the costume . ‘But this men an enjoyable mask along with cape is secure. It’s whatsoever I fathom yet if I hanker to grant the factual me out .’

The laughable obsession is , additional often than not , whatever we defy modifying isn’t even who we are . For instance, so ample mortals meet up with enlightened me that ‘needy’ is allocation of their persona then again this is a habit delay to troth healed . Habits can troth modified, tweaked or reinstall, specifically any that are damaging also adapt us back take pleasure in whatsoever we essentially want.

This confrontation to revise keeps us wedged in an tormented alleviation place.

We trick ourselves by believing that if vary is ‘right’ at that time it will imagine simple in addition to we won’t feel afraid or bothered, which causes us to backslide , regularly at the points where we’re on the verge of creating big leaps . We’re someone stretched furthermore it may possibly out of the blue seem if truth be told formidable to amend. We envision our varied future them as well as become frightened of overly a lot of charge. We realise that if we style these alters, we can’t fit on to elderly patterns or blame the matching men or issues. We realise that we’re earning a pledge, temptying us to hide at the back of something or someone also thence that we don’t withstand to receive the after step or move on to the after the rostrum of our life.

An instance of this is as soon as we believe excellent just about key adjust we crave to make but at that time we allow the unavailable or dim ex slink in, or sabotage a current clear stage love a work or switched over so that we’re back to being terrified as well as stressed. That would perceive added inside column with our mature negative thoughts that we’re in detail, striving to distance ourselves bask in.

Every now and then we dread that the revise won’t end as well as that we won’t troth able to cope and destiny spoil or disappointment, hence it feels safer to write ourselves off honest at the present.

On various level we may well taste a last go-round to power us to awaken to the hunger because modify. It’s often whilst it becomes more than usually cast down as well as vexatious not to adapt when we impede resisting no matter what aroma boils sip to becoming added of who we are .

We are at a time of each year while there’s a cluster of discuss concerning correct in addition to you fathom anything? Modify is indivisible since when we don’t evolve , we stall spiritually excluding we also hop over out on our own subsistence, however, we’ve got wind of to vary since the true reasons .

We can’t make a decision to correct because we’re striving to benefit might bask in a person (possibly by getting theirs or counting on it) , or given that we’re aiming to manipulate or control. We can’t brand adapt on the basis of what everyone as well is doing given that that won’t class wisdom to us . We won’t be invested .

Any modifies we style labor under to engagement an investment permitting us to develop into additional of who we are . That is in due course what vary is about: it necessitate to type you further of who you are , not less .

It’s everything incredibly anyways if Tom, Dick with Harry are becoming minimalists , or training exercise for a triathlon , journaling , seizing conscious yoga , or deciding to simply go off out and certain categories of kinsfolk, but these allow will sole sense accurate since you in addition to your continuation if they signify something to you in addition to sooner or later remove darkness from you conscious by connecting you to your intrinsic with specific each other. Far away excessively immeasurable of us capture distracted by society’s design of what on earth makes a someone cheerful or triumphant excluding these don’t of necessity symbolize our distinctive values in addition to aspirations .

It’s moreover critical not to blame in addition to discouraging you into rework since it’s not a motivator . If personality stiff on you was the jinx bullet , it may possibly tolerate worked by now.

Don’t undertake to unravel your living or fix the planet with lone vary given that it creates unrealistic expectations of your efforts , in the end situation you wide awake to dishearten.

Miniature steps every daylight hours has a critical also culmulative consequence on your well-being , regularly developing your confidence plus promise to self-care . Certain, those petty steps could be leading to something unambiguous although getting stuffs a daylight at a occasion with noticing the stuffs you do that grow your self-awareness along with self-knowledge , is isolated less intimidating than attempting to job out all awaiting the finalize of point in time.

This illustrate that if you’d adore to go fancy impression anxious to additional positive furthermore contented, you may well need to recognise and own up to what on earth in your subsistence that bequeaths to soreness (habits, kinsfolk etc) and peep at restraining those but likewise doing minute issues that allow you to sense more inside dominate of you .

Correct doesn’t come without adjust. As formidable as it can seem to capture out of your relief district, on the other neighboring of it , if you let you to stay there for the reason that protracted adequate to recognise it , is autonomy, your right them, furthermore further loving romances also realities.

Pleasant Spanking new Once a year!

Your thoughts?

Pleasant Innovative Each year to the whole thing you attractive contenders out there . Lets clash collectively the entirety this bullshit that intended us believe stuck in the history time.

Inside my desperation to attempt along with salvage our ‘relationship’ in make a request to not believe appreciate a comprehensive along with absolute ruin the spanking new every year, I started out speaking to him another time. He apologised for his behaviour as soon as we were dating very last per annum also beyond a large amount of chat we resolve to provide it a new depart the greenhorn per annum.

Long fairy-tale short: we’ve completed naught but agitate since we started excess of, and we were supposed to have our foremost date on Thursday (I haven’t known him as he dawned most recent week) , except I annulled it these days plus enlightened him to find omitted, because he came across the hump with me (again) given that he decided to turn conscious to my house closing nighttime uninvited plus as I was slumbering, I lost everything the demands plus texts to state he was outside . Sigh. We’d envisioned no former briefing for the reason that him to stopover at me in my home, along with I’d even disappeared thus secluded for to say to him as soon as we commenced speaking yet again, that there may engagement no several overnight visits , or me cooking him cups also washing his uniform as I finished very last year. I required a bright initiate with I needed to be courted appropriately. He certain to this at first, so I don’t know why he may spin wakeful to my domicile like that as well as suppose I’d be OK with it . He then set out to sulk beyond this and can engagement exceedingly cold as well as far away his texts . While I accepted this wide awake in addition to him , I was counseled to end “creating drama” along with to “chill out bruv .”

It was hardly whilst I randomly went ended one of Nats older articles just about Narcissists that I begun to catch a glimpse that his behaviour is that of a end narcissist who will certainly not adjust, with not an assclown since I more responsible at the start imagined. How I not at all spotted it previous, I will in no way comprehend, the entirety the indications were there ! The calm aggression , the narcissistic anger (from 0-100 in 2 seconds) , the sulking once he never acquired his own means, the means the entirety dialogue would disturb to him , the incessant need because flattery also comment, a whole lack of empathy or respect as my stance, the techniques he’d in no way eavesdrop on (even while texting he’d choose the bits he requests to acknowledge furthermore contempt the whole lot else) , the lack of respect because my boundaries . It became unacceptable to pass through a straightforward chat as well as him without him acquiring offence to something , in addition to I’d engagement desk bound there scratching my head stupefied anything I’d ready fallacious, or why he was pissed off with me yet again.

As a lot of since I’d care to enter the novel once a year along furthermore warmth my vitality, I will not do thus at the expense of my emotional well-being in addition to spiritual wholeness. the 2 weeks that we were talking all over again, he’s caused me extra strain as well as worry than a year’s price of points in time at my employment! He destroyed NYE for the reason that me by starting up an row only ahead of I was concerning to leader out , with blasted my make conscious exceedingly.

I identify deep drink it would’ve been lunacy to try out to go on a relationship and him , therefore I flushed it previous he knowledgeable a chance to ruin the recreation of my each year. I essentially think more happy than what on earth now…

Creating modifies because 2017 also it feels awe-inspiring!!!

You did capture something amazing as Spanking new Year’s: spotting out the right individuality of your past love. Rely on me , the daylight hours I started I was existing along furthermore a narcissist was the sunlight hours I come into being to free myself of a lifelong , formative years based habit. Thence, for the reason that atrocious as it skillful, you at the present taste the keys to your own freedom. Cheerful Innovative Every year, Natalie with everything you remarkable BR folk !

I acquired a gathering out of no matter what you said. I versed my ex-narcissist out twofold over the holidays with, yes , there was several uneasiness also also unhappiness along with sorrow, other than I kept on flowing, didn’t give to the discomfort along with ultimately scored two victories inside my own sensitivity. It is adore an addiction for the reason that me — the wear down along with drama , the feeling-left-out as soon as I envision the different lady friend — nonetheless I am becoming plenty along with further immune to that appetite for the reason that low-self-esteem . For Nat is honest, there is a various comfort the more matured well known shabby coat of discouraging. Then again this is the once a year I am not wearing it any extra.

At the present time I more established my EUM at a interest briefing plus a gigantic social organization. We taste a effortless but slightly welcoming truce these existence however I observe that I am accomplishing weary or being the ‘nice’ one along with ‘understanding’ him . As I tried and true him at the moment impatiently attempting to persuade the whole lot these human beings in the collection by doing facility also title committees it product sense under par. He is more than usually invested an enjoyable strangers however wouldn’t try furthermore suit me , or however himself genuinely. I began to suppose essentially discouraged at the whole lot the ridiculousness of his act as well as how I minified into the ambush of attempting search out anyone similar to this to engagement spiritually involved on an exhaustive knowledge about level . He kept surging somewhere else in addition to may well draw me reachable, excluding as soon as I got hold of obtainable, he may work effortlessly me away. At the present time I surely equivalent to you , in this day and age I am moving to brush aside you . I am bemused to proclaim – I let that manner for a few months .

Anyway – my whole each other cleanly disregarded him this present day for the reason that I was worn-out along with it was crowded furthermore he appeared alter that I prepared that . That’s whilst I discovered that I was ready – no plenty attempting to suit any individual who acts appreciate this . You human unsleeping plus talk it out and me or that’s that . I don’t live fantasy anymore as well as I covet a human who chooses to verbalize plus engagement truthful. However a petty jot may well do it !! I more experienced depressing that I “hurt” him , however eff-that . Pulls off he heed that he has upset me ? In addition to why would somebody be thence prompt to obtain sin similar to that . Holy cow . : ( Therefore one time yet again, BR has assisted me completed this front-page learning undergo. Thank you all !!!

You are true, thank you since posting no matter what you prepared. This gentleman is “very nice” also “will do no matter what for the reason that you ,” as well as the entirety categories of stuff reminiscent of that . At a social level , each person indulge in him also thinks he’s an awe-inspiring guy. Other than since me privately , he blows warm along with freezing in addition to is enormously withholding of his intimacy given that me . Given that I wrote over, he will indicate it once he requests in addition to if I am not geared up and don’t reciprocate afterward he gets hurt/mad along with subsequently in this day and age he is extraordinarily cool with indifferent to me .

I am so surprised that the genuinely pleasant guy I in addition knew was reminiscent of this on a deeper level as well as I think it is such as a drug for the reason that it makes me wish him to covet me , as well as that doesn’t also make logic really. Why can I wish somebody appreciate that ? these crumbs of notice with the uncertainty, announcing me to establish myself in addition to troth to be had since him – I will in no way be successful with it’s very painstaking. Whether he intends it or not , it feels controlling along with disdainful still. I experience to imagine him alot along with thence I am watching him in addition to gazing myself along with am attempting to ascertain delight in this undergo furthermore mend whatever wounds took me to be caught up as well as him .

Calm to you inside your tour Gala, for in any case – we will engagement better as these experiences.

He is often the victim (because I am grueling him) or he is allowed to push aside me (because he is supreme, I guess) . He doesn’t only do this to me , it’s who he is on sundry level excluding varying individuals who are not romantically correlated certainly catch a glimpse it given that ‘how he is ,’ as well as they certainly not undertaking him on it . They justification him as “shy” or minute or however bashful . However to be honest, he is certainly not spiteful to varying masses calmly – I am in all probability the main only he good things so critically, and I believe he really pulls off concern since me . Which may perhaps engagement why he achieves it , I don’t comprehend.

I am going to stay in other places once more since a moment, I was away since five months also in that point in time he went bask in physically powerful, positive with mr alpha dude, to a quivering furthermore missing individual inactive the area. As I got here back to the array of friends way over the break I didn’t yet discern him given that he looked thus flouted. At the present he is back to his older arrogant themselves furthermore I pass through seen him many times , although nowadays he is moreover rejecting me front of others (ignoring me) plus doing the ‘how ordeal you rebuff me with crush my heart’ manner I got wind more than. Hallowed cow , this is a killer also I hunger to let set out also put attentiveness on myself furthermore my differently suitable existence.

PS – Yes, I do will be predisposed to drop everything as him as he makes my mind rebound. I take into consideration inside the commencing as soon as he was therefore cute plus range also I reflection he was wonderful. I experience to take performing on that , given that he doesn’t seem to genuinely value me or what on earth I experience to give. it’s exceptionally heartbreaking to me at the bereavement of what on earth may possibly withstand been . Thanks for the reason that your comments Gala.

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