#would still be cheaper than materials alone for this project
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Friendly Fire - Chapter One: Wild Animals
Ellie Thibodeaux holds arguably the worst job in Bridgehead City. She’s not a cook. She’s not even a cleaner. She’s the resident RDA psychiatrist, and her next assignment is helping the formerly deceased Project Phoenix come to terms with being brought back to life as an entirely different species.
Enter Colonel Miles Quaritch, the most reluctant, and most challenging patient she’s ever had the displeasure of treating.
James Cameron’s Avatar - The Way Of Water (2022)
Recombinant Quaritch x ofc (currently professional/platonic, enemies/annoyances to friends, could be more) & Quaritch x Paz Socorro
Warnings: mild swears
Tagging: @kmc1989 (lmk if you want added to the taglist!)
Read on Ao3
Prologue | Chapter 2
Wild Animals
“Take a seat-“ Sir?
No, screw that, Colonel Quaritch wasn’t her commanding officer.
”-…over there.” Ellie gestured at the comically large armchair placed opposite her own human-sized one.
She stifled a nervous giggle. Strange to be the one giving the orders for a change.
Just make sure these recom soldiers are of relatively sound mind. Flag any issues. That’s your only job.
Ellie understood why her role existed. The big bosses of the RDA were more than a little twitchy at any mention of recombinants after the actions of Jake Sully, Na’vi sympathiser. It could not happen again.
The destruction of the Omatikaya Hometree sixteen years prior had been a colossal waste of money and lives. Ardmore called the shots now, and was determined to do things differently this time around. She figured cheaper and easier to employ a psychiatrist, than be doomed to repeat history. Video diaries alone weren’t going to cut it anymore.
It might be Ellie’s only job, but it was one Hell of a job. She was the one holding the metaphorical scales judging the outcome of Project Phoenix.
She ran through her usual welcome-to-the-session spiel as she sat down to face Quaritch, adjusting her visor under her chin.
That was another thing. Neither of them could breathe the other’s air.
A power move for sure, since she was the one currently speaking through an exopack, the rubber seal itching her face terribly.
Compromise. It had to happen.
Part of her didn’t think Quaritch would even deign to show up. But Ardmore had reassured Ellie that he took his schedule very seriously. And if the Colonel was one thing, it was punctual.
But why would any of the recombinant soldiers bother with a shrink in the first place?
The General had promised certain motivations for those who regularly attended their appointments with Tibbs, M.D. Things that were hard to come by. Items that made living on an alien planet, and in a new alien form, a little more bearable.
Zdinarsik had a penchant for pink bubblegum. Sure thing. Mansk had a quite frankly embarrassing collection of expensive sunglasses. Forget about it, done. Fike and Wainfleet, Ellie wasn’t privy to their wants, but she had a feeling they were of the adult reading material variety.
Still only human, even in a non-human body.
Quaritch, well, Ellie wasn’t sure what he liked yet.
Did he like anything?
Judging by the look on his face, he certainly didn’t like her.
Goddamn it, initiating conversation with these blue giants never got any easier. They were all just so intimidating.
Ellie cleared her throat and tried to look ill-at-ease as she took the first step.
“So, what would you like to talk about today?”
No response.
Well, that was rude.
She tried for more casual, conversational. “How’s Project Phoenix treating you so far?”
Still nothing. Maybe an expletive muttered under his breath as he stared her down.
Oh great, he was going to be one of those.
”Whatever, it’s your hour.” Ellie shrugged. “I get paid the same whether you talk or not.”
They sat in claustrophobic silence for over forty-five minutes, the Colonel clearly going to the place deep in his mind where he could feel no pain, and Ellie wishing she could do the same.
Towards the end, when it was apparent he wasn’t going to give her anything at all, she started writing on her notepad, scrambling for something she could type up later that was incrementally more interesting than the colour of the walls or what the weather was doing.
The incessant scratching of pen on paper was what finally got the Colonel to speak up.
”What you scribbling there?” His cat-like ears flicked back in irritation. “You sketching my portrait or something?”
“Hm?” She glanced up, startled by the sound of his voice. “Oh, it’s just notes.”
”I ain’t done anything.”
”You haven’t said anything.” Ellie tapped her pen against her notepad. “I wouldn't write down specifics we discussed, doctor-patient confidentiality rules. But I can still write about your overall demeanour, how stressed you appear…unwillingness to co-operate. That’s the sort of thing I report back to the General.”
“Got it all figured out, doncha?” His sardonic reply made her stomach drop. “I don’t have to tell you anything, shrink-wrap.”
”No, but you may as well get something out of our session.” She replied, exasperation threatening her tone. “We can talk about literally anything.”
“Anything?” He suddenly leaned forward, fixing her with eye contact so intense she found it hard to hold his gaze. “Stays in this room?”
Ellie tried not to let her excitement show as she nodded agreement. Less than an hour and she was already wearing him down, a notoriously difficult customer. Who said the Colonel was hard to break?
“Alright.” He settled back in his oversized chair with a smirk. “Why don’t you tell me, about how that arm of yours ain’t real?”
Ellie couldn’t catch the shocked widening of her eyelids fast enough. ”Excuse me?”
She fought the instinctual twitch of reaching down to tug at her sleeve with her remaining hand. A nervous gesture, to cover herself.
But he was right on the money. Ellie Thibodeaux only had one arm.
Still a very sore subject. Power moves, indeed.
She could only gawp at him stupidly, speechless.
”I’ve seen my fair share of busted limbs.” Quaritch drawled. “I know a prosthetic, and a bad one at that, when I see one, even with your clothes on.”
Ellie meanwhile, was just staring back in horror.
“What got you? Landmine, congenital defect?” He quirked an eyebrow at her discomfort. “Wild animal?”
“That’s none of your concern.” To her annoyance, she sounded upset when she finally spoke. Ellie’s voice shook as she croaked out her words.
Crap, audible weakness.
With her exopack on, she couldn’t take a sip of water to break the tension. She couldn’t do anything except fog up the inside of her visor with how her breathing had quickened.
“I’m gonna go with the latter. The hand that still moves just strangled your pen to death.” Quaritch nodded knowingly, visibly pleased with his own intellect. “Guess you just didn’t run fast enough, back on Earth, huh?”
“Maybe I’m still running.” Ellie muttered. She blinked after the words hung in the atmosphere between them.
Why’d I say that?
“Are you, now?” He finally looked somewhat interested in her. “What are you running from, shrink?”
The datapad on the table to her right started beeping insistently. Ellie‘s end-of-session alarm was sounding, an entire hour had finally passed.
Thank Christ for that.
She forced an angelic smile, beyond relieved.
”Sorry, Colonel. That’s all the time we have for today.”
“Hm.” He nodded, already standing to leave. ”Was just getting good.”
”Will you be attending our next session?” Ellie asked, unable to keep the hostility out of her voice. She was hoping for a firm no. Fine, let Ardmore deal with him.
Her professional facade had well and truly slipped. Quaritch had successfully rattled her.
”I might.” He didn’t even look back. “See you around, shrink-wrap.”
Oh God. She would see him around, no doubt. Bridgehead City was big, but not big enough. The entire planet of Pandora was no longer big enough for her liking.
Ellie exhaled and slumped down in her chair, exhausted. “Shit.”
That could have gone better.
He’d told her nothing, and gotten uncomfortably close to her heart in record time, homing in on her missing arm as easily as an enemy target.
Who’s breaking who, then?
Obviously, he wasn’t Colonel for no reason. She knew that now.
Ellie was already dreading his second session more than she ever thought possible.
***
Thanks for reading!
#my writing#my fanfiction#james camerons avatar female oc#avatar the way of water#avatar 2022#avatar fanfic#avatar fanfiction#james cameron avatar#oc: ijeawele thibodeaux#oc: ele thibodeaux#oc: ellie thibodeaux#faceclaim: dewanda wise#miles quaritch#colonel quaritch#colonel miles quaritch#miles quaritch x paz socorro
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Stuff I've Had to Deal With as a City Librarian - Plus Ultra Edition
Been a while, huh? Have some public library nonsense!
TW for racism and bodily fluids.
Julie found a half-used tube of toothpaste in the computer lab. Just chilling by one of the computers.
Lori had to fish a pair of shitty underwear out of a toilet in the men's room.
We'd been trying to convince the children's librarian to stop using liquid glue for her various kids' craft projects or on the craft table. Two incidents finally lead to her doing this. First a lady put her purse on the craft table to tie her shoe. She set it directly in an enormous puddle of glue a kid had left behind. Then second was a kid getting glue on the bottom of his shoe after story time and tracking it everywhere. She's since switched to glue sticks and everyone is much happier.
When people lose books, they have to pay for them, and if they find the books, they can either bring them back to us (and get a refund if they bring them within a year) or keep them. A lady came in and said she lost some books and was ready for them. I check her card so I can see what she has and write them up, and she, totally unprompted says, "Yeah, I know where they are, they're just massively overdue and buying them outright would be cheaper than paying the fines." I told her she couldn't do that; if she still has the items and they aren't damaged, we would like to have our materials back so we don't have to spend any money getting replacements. She replies, "But why can't I just buy them?" It took every ounce of resistance in my body to tell her that we're not a bookstore, she has to bring the goddamn things back, that's how libraries work.
We caught a guy shaving in the lab. He didn't seem to find this strange at all, and when we asked why he didn't just go in the bathroom, he replied he didn't know he could do it there. And your first thought was not to ask, but to do it in our computer lab?!
One of my coworkers checked the cafe and found a guy sleeping. The city has been riding us not to let people do that, but we generally just kind of shake them a little, remind them they can't sleep there, then let them immediately go back to sleep when we walk away. We generally don't care. But when my coworker tried to stir this guy, he didn't move. Shook him by the shoulder. Nothing. Nearly shouted. Nary a stir. The way the dude is sitting makes it hard to see if he's breathing, so she starts to get concerned. She goes back to the desk and tells Julie what's going on; Julie tries to rouse him, doesn't succeed. They ended up having to call the police for a wellness check, because they were genuinely starting to get concerned for the guy's safety. The cop finally managed to wake him up, and it turns out the dude was fine. He's apparently just a very heavy sleeper.
We had a bad ice storm one day, so the library didn't open. Rachel checked the messages the next day when we reopened, and a woman called three times in a row to ask why we weren't open, she tried the doors and they didn't work, we're supposed to be open, why aren't we open, all with increasing frantic tone. In one call you could hear her yanking on the doors.
A patron parked outside called us and said that there was a woman in the parking lot writing down people's license plate numbers. Travis had to call the police (protocol for "suspicious behavior"). Turns out the police are well aware of this woman's antics all around town, to the point where it's a city effort to get her some help with what is clearly unchecked mental illness. A week later, the same woman got in trouble in the Walmart parking lot, doing the same nonsense, and calling the woman who caught her a human trafficker.
Someone opened and ate a can of chicken in the men's bathroom, though they couldn't have eaten much because most of it seemed to be on the floor. Poor Becky and Sam had to clean it up. The smell alone was horrible.
A man couldn't get into his gmail account, so I went over to help him. It turned out he had two-factor authentication set up, so it was trying to send a code to his phone. He refused to confirm his phone number because "I don't want these people tracking me". I had to fight the urge to laugh in his face, because he simply would not accept that he had to do that in order to get into his gmail, and the absolute irony of not wanting to be tracked while using motherfucking Google's email service.
A girl and her grandmother came in, and the girl forgot her library card. Grandma was fully prepared to check out the book she wanted...until she saw it was a book about Ted Bundy. She proceeded to go on a hellfire and brimstone rant about how the book was Satanic and she shouldn't have even touched it. She kept looking to my poor coworker for support her, and you could just tell that my coworker wanted to just fade away into the chair she was sitting in.
One night, I found an abandoned pair of shorts in the men's bathroom. Julie found a pair of sunglasses in the cafe, and Macey found a travel coffee mug (coffee still in it) in one of the study rooms. Tit's out kind of outfit.
A guy ate absolute shit on his motorized scooter on the sidewalk outside the library. Donna had to call 911, but the guy refused to go to the hospital because he couldn't afford it, no matter how worried the EMTs were about the bleeding gash on his forehead or the possibility of a concussion. Hope he'll be alright. And that's why we always wear our helmets, kids.
A woman came in at 8:47 (we close at 9) and had Rachel make 89 copies of her handwritten conspiracy theory journal. The lady had called in advance to check when we closed, and still came in that close to closing with her bullshit, and tried to stay after they were finished. Luckily, she was chased out.
Donna, Julie, and Rachel were leaving for the evening, and someone pulled up, opened their car door, yelled the n-word, and drove off. All three of those women are white as the driven snow.
The city sets up a ceramic Christmas village display in our rotunda area every year, and this year, Lori decided to have fun with it. She put a little plastic alien and dragon somewhere in the village, and anyone who found them got a sticker. Obviously, kids were really into it, but the adults were even more so. You've never seen so many people over forty excitedly looking for little plastic toys before.
A absolutely gorgeous woman in the most beautiful African dress came in and asked to use a computer. When I told her how to log on, she said "Thank you, my love." and floated off. Her perfume made me feel a way.
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The idea of the block buildings will send you plans for like the bar the wall is for us to take it over and a lot of people think that's a good idea but more like don't seem to
Thor Freya
We don't really want it out but you guys deserve to see what they can do
Mac daddy
I'm not afraid of what they can do and that's why someone would do it we're just not doing that no we are and I'm going to have to see where these blocks are coming from cuz we can't figure it out and he says it's a giant pez dispenser I want to see that okay but really we might have to go ahead with this building the bar because we want to see where it's from and we have some walls to build so I can put their walls up around the airport and we appreciate that there are airports all three of them in this area
Trump
Not for long but we see what he's saying if you want to wall up you have to purchase one and have them install one but it's not much money in the airport authority can afford it and they're in there and they work for the airport not for the township or City and we looked at their figures and it's like $100 millennial foot which is the cheapest damn wall I've ever seen this for 12 ft extruded wall they just stuck with that's what everybody does stucco it so it's probably a little extra for pieces but it's nothing but really you work out feet to miles and it's still money but it's nothing you know it's like hundreds of thousands not even above that for miles and miles and miles of it so they considering it and really it's thick like 2 ft thick so he says I probably do that and he has people who can do it and Dan says it works up to like 200 millennial foot with no cap and no stucco and no shapes and what I know is their stuff was all inclusive including the stucco so the Price is Right but can even get down here to do the work maybe you want to have Dan put in the block they said that's like $50 in lineal foot to do everything that might bring them to 100 cuz there's no forms and there's no moving men around and that includes the foundation no but I just put in the dirt there's nothing to it he's starting to think about it raise his hand and says I think I'll do it both ways and see which ones cheaper.
Mac
The block alone till close fort Myers with a 12 ft wall with a cap on it and some pilasters and would be about $75,000 for materials including the mastic do you have to store in a warehouse and would rather deliver it as you use it just to make sure they say no but it doesn't matter just sit there and wait half an hour and they say okay and they do realize why 75,000 our son says it's like the price of two pools in your stupid town. So John remillard gets that he says how do you attach your reinforcement to the bottom block he said you don't it's not a reinforced wall it doesn't require reinforcing because it concrete to the foundation and to itself and he says wow that's intense so if you hit it with something you won't fall over but there's no rebar in it and what we say is we can do the first four courses make it for grouting and the price only changes my like $1,000 and you have to you don't have to be too accurate because the grouting you can move it back and forth a little like about one foot but you can't move inside to side and you do grout it solid and need a concrete it concrete so thinking about it and other people are too all around the world they can build themselves it looks like the slow man on this project it doesn't look like they're going to close it off and exclude people and it looks nice too it looks like some sort of strange Chinese wall a lot of people like the look of it and they stain it or paint it with a light paint that is stain paint it looks pretty cool they're they're painted walls that show The block and it doesn't look as strong as it should be but it's much stronger than concrete so tons of people are interested but we'll see if they are
Thor Freya
These guys want to build like a container on on the site the stuff in it and they want to do weird things with the airplanes and all sorts of stuff
Mac
Well John remillard is on the phone trying to order the block and we have a 24-hour hotline and he's going to try his credit card and he wants to order a huge bunch of it and he's calling us someone else and we're checking the ID and we know who he is and what bank it is and we're not disclosing anymore information we know what your airport too it's punta Gorda airport and that's not too far from here and we do see why
Thor Freya
Olympus
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Practical Spellwork: Flame and Incense Cleansing Charms
This post is part of a series of animistic, spirit-oriented spellcasting for beginners. Go to the masterpost to see them all.
This post is part of a series about how to do a really specific kind of magic dependent on really specific beliefs. This post is not universal and only applies to people who want to try it out.
On stick/cone incense versus natural herbs and resins:
Unlike saltwater cleansing, where the type of salt doesn't matter at all, the type of incense you choose matters a lot. We can generally divide all incense into being either commercially produced pressed incense, or a physical substance harvested from an actual plant, such as leaves, petals, or resins.
All commercially produced incenses are interchangeable to me; the actual plant substances are not.
For me, stick and cone incense works as a cleanser by being a vehicle for smoke and flame. Through this vehicle we can more easily invoke the virtues of fire and air, which are excellent cleansers. I say a simple charm over the commercial incense before or after I light it, and away we go.
Conversely, actual plant material works by invoking the inhabiting spirit of the plant. That spirit's natural presence is released by the burning of its physical vessel. As its presence fills up the room through the vehicle of smoke, other things are naturally pushed away (just as when light fills a room, darkness is pushed away).
Because actual plant material is introducing its own virtues into the space or object I'm cleansing, I use it less often than commercial incense. I find that commercial incense bangs a wooden spoon on a pot and makes the unwanted energy scram, and that's it - whereas plant materials take up residence and influences the whole space until it fades away.
Also, actual plant material is more expensive.
On the quantity of smoke and flame
There exist delightful rituals where medically contraindicated quantities of smoke are produced, the sorts of things where you'd be wise to have a spare inhaler on hand and someone with a fire extinguisher nearby.
While devilishly fun, for those of us who don't mind not breathing all of the time, you do not need to smoke out your room like you've got a fog machine in there.
The quantity of smoke only matters inasmuch as it's a decent measurement of how much cleansing energy you're introducing to a space. But you can still do a shit job charming the incense and a ton of smoke barely cleanses; or you can do a magnificent charm and half a stick will blast your room to factory reset cleanliness.
Let's not forget, after all, that candles alone are good cleansers and they usually don't produce smoke at all.
On not sending yourself to the hospital
Hyssop is one of my favorite cleansing herbs. It's so strong, yet so gentle. It's like what you'd imagine a hug from a friendly bear would be. It can also give you seizures!
Before you burn any plant for the first time, give a quick Google as to its active medicinal properties. Even if it's something as benign as rosemary might have scary interactions with pregnant people.
We're not using these plants because they're inert little playtoys we project our own energies onto. If that was the case we might as well just write words on paper and project onto them; it'd be cheaper. We're using them because they hold immense power that will act regardless of our intent. Do not believe the wolf will leave you alone just because you hug trees.
Quickest Incense Charm
Suitable for use on commercial incense and plant material; the plant material will add its own effects. Modified from the watery charm from Mastering Witchcraft (Paul Huson, 1979).
The incense may be lit before or after the charm is applied.
Connect to the incense in any way you like (Triangle of Manifestation, stirring it with your pointer finger, visualization, etc).
Speak or think this charm into the incense:
Fire and Air
Where you flare
Let no spell, nor ill intention last
Not in complete accord with me
As my word, so shall it be
Traditional Incense Charm
This specific version is from Mastering Witchcraft (Paul Huson, 1979). This charm is seen in many forms originating at least 1801 (see below), but I suspect it likely has earlier origins.
The incense may be lit before or after the charm is applied.
Connect to the incense in any way you like (Triangle of Manifestation, stirring it with your pointer finger, visualization, etc).
Speak or think this charm into the incense:
Creature of fire
This charge I lay
No phantom in thy presence stay
Hear my will addressed to thee:
As my word, so mote it be!
Trithemius's Formal Charm (feat. Jesus)
Via The Art of Drawing Spirits Into Crystals (1801), attributed to Trithemius but which we all suspect Barrett actually wrote.
Given that this conjuration speaks directly to the "creature of fire," I always felt the incense or candle should be lit beforehand.
Where it's published, this charm is clearly meant to be spoken upon incense; try it on a candle and see if you don't like it just as much.
Connect to the incense or candle in any way you like (Triangle of Manifestation, stirring it with your pointer finger, visualization, etc).
Speak or think this charm into the incense or flame:
I conjure thee, oh thou creature of fire! by him who created all things both in heaven and earth, and in the sea, and in every other place whatever, that forthwith thou cast away every phantasm from thee, that no hurt whatsoever shall be done in any thing. Bless, oh Lord, this creature of fire, and sanctify it that it may be blessed, and that they may fill up the power and virtue of their odours; so neither the enemy, nor any false imagination, may enter into them; through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Pentagram Charm
Suitable to be worked over either a candle or incense. Excellent practice for energy work and/or visualization.
Do not light the incense or candle beforehand.
Connect to the incense in any way you like (Triangle of Manifestation, stirring it with your pointer finger, visualization, etc).
Draw a small pentagram around the candle or incense. Start at any corner. Visualize, feel, believe, understand, or know, that as you draw the pentagram a trail of energy follows your eyes, finger, or whatever you're using to direct its shape.
The pentagram is an ancient and powerful symbol which automatically imparts clearing and balancing energies. You do not need to chant anything to get this to work; only maintain your intent that the pentagram work to cleanse and clear your space.
As you complete the tracing of the pentagram, visualize, feel, believe, understand, or know that the pentagram joins together and become solid and vibrant.
Light the candle or incense. As it takes to flame, visualize, feel, believe, understand, or know that the fire radiates through the pentagram like sunlight through a prism, and activates the symbol like a shockwave.
Any other symbol with similar intent may be used instead of the pentagram.
Spirit-Calling Charm: Two Ways
For use with plant material.
This charm is improved if you know how and/or why a plant behaves in a cleansing or purifying way. This charm is therefore a good jumping off point to communicate with plant spirits and develop a relationship with them. It is also a good place to start experimenting with your own charms and incantations, and learning how to set intent and petitions into words.
Connect to the incense in any way you like (Triangle of Manifestation, stirring it with your pointer finger, visualization, etc).
Simplest Way
Speak or think directly to the indwelling spirit of the plant. Send it a message, like,
[Plant] spirit, I ask that you come indwell in your physical vessel unto this purpose: that you aid me in a smoke cleansing and clearing my space/object(s) of unwanted, malefic energies, and that all things which do not serve me are sent away. Thank you.
Light the incense.
More Complex Way
Speak or think directly to the indwelling spirit of the plant. Send it a message, like,
[Plant] spirit, [epithet], who accomplishes purification and cleansing by [method], I ask you to come indwell in your physical vessel. I ask you to bring power and strength to this vessel, in order to aid me in smoke cleansing. I need this cleansing to clear my space/object(s) of unwanted, malefic energies, and that all things which do not serve me are sent away. Thank you.
Light the incense.
This method is only more complex in that you must know more about the plant spirit in order to perform it - it is my experience that the more you know, and the more you flatter the spirit with its titles and abilities, the better the cleansing will be. A charm such as this is a good way to develop a relationship with a spirit. People like to be needed, and spirits are people too - just not human people.
This post is part of a series of animistic, spirit-oriented spellcasting for beginners. Go to the masterpost to see them all.
#craft and cast practical magic#witchcraft#witchblr#witchcraft 101#witch tips#book of shadows#grimoire#witches of tumblr#cleansing spells#cleansing magic#incense#candles
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The Blight Chronicles: Odalia & Alador
New series!!!
Cover art used with the permission of the very talented artists Yukifrill and Lencellychan on Twitter and Instagram
Prologue: Before They Met
Alador
Every day started the same. He would wake up on his desk after falling asleep working on a project. Most of the time it was still dark out so he would just continue working as soon as he woke up but every now and then he would get up and get himself some food.
He always made sure to buy foods that did not need to be cooked and had a long shelf life. This way he could buy in bulk, not waste time cooking, plus these foods were also cheaper which meant he had more money to spend on materials. It was very efficient.
He would spend mornings working on his projects until it was time for him to leave for school. There was a time when he would only shower when he remembered to or when he found it to be extremely necessary. So as to not waste time. This was until Principal Bump started waiting for him in the front of the school. He gave him an ultimatum he either started showering everyday or he would be forced to contact his father. The last thing Alador wanted was for his father to be involved so now he set up an alarm which worked in reminding him most days. Principal Bump found this acceptable.
Alador was an only child who lived with his father although he did not get to see him much. Due to his job he was hardly ever home and when he was home he would spend the day sleeping and the nights out. In all honesty it was hard for Alador to remember what his father looked like. If it wasn’t for one small family portrait in the living room Alador didn’t think he would be able to recognize his father when he did see him.
It had been this way for as long as he could remember; he didn't remember his mother much and his father did not speak about her. But it was ok he was used to being alone and he did not really miss his parents. He preferred being by himself anyway; other people were too loud and asked too many questions. He was sure his father preferred being alone too.
His father would send him a monthly allowance so he could buy himself food and any other things he needed which Alador mainly used for buying materials for his projects. His father tried his best to make sure Alador had everything he needed while he was not around. All he asked in return was that Alador would check in with him often which he assumed was his fathers way of making sure he was still alive.
Alador’s messages to his father were always the same “I’m ok, nothing to report '' to which his father always responded “Ok” This had been their relationship since Aladro was small and it worked for him. As long as he could work on his projects Alador did not mind much of anything.
After school he would either go straight home to finish whatever he was working on making sure to look down to not get distracted or he would head to the market to buy new supplies.
It was in one of his supply runs that he ran into her. The green haired girl with sapphire eyes. She looked familiar. He was sure that she must be one of his classmates although he was not sure what her name was or why she was staring at him so intently. Maybe he had done something to her without realizing it. Not that he cared, he just wanted to get the materials he needed and go home as fast as possible.
Odalia
Every day it was the same routine. She would wake up before dawn so she could do her chores before her parents woke up. She had to make sure to stay as quiet as possible so as to not wake them up. Especially her mother, that was one of the many things she did not tolerate and would earn Odalia punishment.
Apart from cleaning the house and doing laundry, part of Odalia's chores included loading up the family cart with merchandise which her parents would take to sell at the market. Once that was done she would finish up whatever homework she had then get ready for school.
Odalia was an only child which she hated. She always thought that if she had a sibling then there would be at least one person that would understand and help her. But it was just her and she had to work with what she had.
Her family wasn't well off. Although they ran their own business her parents weren't the best with managing money. Not when it counted anyways. They would cut as many corners as possible which left them selling poor quality products at the market which they tried selling at inflated prices. At the same time most of the money they made they would spend it gambling or on apple blood.
If it wasn’t for Odalia setting aside some money they wouldn't have much money left over for food. Her parents were not aware that she did this or that she was setting aside some money for the day she could finally run away.
She kept that money under the floorboards located under her bed in a small chest with a hidden compartment. On top of it she kept some poems and stories she had made up in hopes that it would keep anyone that found it from looking into the box any further.
She had to be very careful; she didn't even want to think about what her parents might do to her if they ever found that money. More importantly what her mother might do.
Her father was a very unremarkable man. No hopes, no dreams, no ambitions. He was nothing more than an empty shell. He spent his entire life in an almost dazed state. He was always either drunk or hungover. Odalia wasn't even sure if the man realized he had a daughter. She always wondered where he had always been like this or if it was the result of being with her mother all this time. She knew that he was a weak wizard and had to drop out of Hexide. So it's possible that he had always been like this.
Her mother on the hand if there was one word to describe her it was evil. She was a selfish woman incapable of love. She saw Odalia as a means of free labor. She was nothing but a tool to be used. Odalia often felt like her mother resented her for being born. This feeling only grew as she got older. With the years she became more cruel towards her. She had started thinking it was due to her being jealous of Odalia.
Her mother had also dropped out of Hexide because she had become pregnant with Odalia. She had never been good at school and as a witch she was mediocre at best. Odalia on the other hand was one of the top students in her class plus her magic had developed at a young age.
She had always found joy in not being like her parents. The last thing she wanted to be was to be like them. She liked that her hair and eye color was shades off from either parent. She loved that she was a stronger witch than either of them were at her age. She could not wait for the day she would finally break free of them. Once that day came she would never look back.
This was the reason she worked so hard at school. Why she tried getting ahead in any way that she could. Why she volunteered to tend to the family post at the market every day after school. She wanted to be better than them and distance herself as much as possible. She just needed to come across the right opportunity and not hesitate to take it.
These were her thoughts as she tended to the post after school that day. That was when she saw the boy with the wild brown hair and golden eyes. He was in her class although they had never really spoken before. Alador never really spoke to anyone. He must have sensed her staring because at that moment he looked at her and their eyes locked.
Alador had the same bored expression he always had. Nothing was different or out of place yet when their eyes met it triggered a vision. She had been having them at random times unable to control them since her magic started to develop but she had never had one like this one. It was a clear image of what looked like an adult version of herself up on a stage. She was presenting someone it was Alador? Wait ‘the greatest abomination creator of the era?”
“Looks like I just found my ticket out of here” she thought to herself as she continued to watch Alador who looked to be trying to get away as fast as he could. “That’s ok mark my words Alador come tomorrow I will make you mine.”
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How about... No!
Yeah, this one was weird for me. It’s started out strong but near the near the end It kind of fell flat. Throughout this I sprinkled in Quotes from one of my favorite shows; I’d watched it every time it was on. Fans will recognize it. Its ugly betty.
When Marinette lost all her friends, she didn’t break down like she thought she would. Or how anyone in class thought she would. There were no tears, no apologies, no anger or frustration. It had happened one sunny Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of class, of month after school started back up again.
Alya, the new class president, had announced in the middle of class after Miss Bustier had stepped out for a moment, that Marinette was an awful bully; she wasn’t the girl they knew anymore, and so… “We’re not your friends anymore.”
“You all feel this way?” Marinette asked.
There were a lot of nods, and yes’s.”
“I didn’t hang with Chloe for reason,” Nino glared. “I’m not hanging with Chloe 2.0.”
“Just another disappointing useless male,” Chloe shook her head.
“You’ve been really mean lately,” Rose said softly. “Sorry.”
“Lila only wanted to be friends with you,” Mylene insisted. “You didn’t have to be so nasty!”
To which Marinette looked at her blankly, shrugged and said, “Okay.”
That was it.
The other students in class didn’t know what to do or say. They had prepared themselves to argue and defend their decision. But what could they say to “okay.”
Nathaniel looked at the rest of the students like there were stupid, “I’m still your friend, Marinette.” He got glares.
Adrien nodded, “We’re still friends,” he assured. “Though,” he glared at the rest of class, “Some people should definitely lose my number.”
The statement got shocked looks. No one expected Adrien to side with Marinette. At worst, when the lines were drawn, they expected him to be neutral. They didn’t know the boy as well as they thought. Lila looked dismayed as she had thought the boy to be a pushover.
“I wouldn’t mind a permanent truce,” Chloe offered. The Bluenette and the blond’s had entered into a truce that had slowly turned into a good friendship. “Maybe i’ll take over the spot as the new bestie.”
Marinette snorted.
Adrien glared at his oldest friend, his hair raising on ends; if Alya was officially out of the way that meant technically he had the number one friend spot. He wouldn’t lose it to Chloe. That wasn’t fair! “It’s taken!”
Chloe smirked, “For now!”
Marinette smiled. She would be just fine.
The class, however, wouldn’t.
It took them three days to realize that ending their friendship with Marinette had consequences.
The first time was when in the middle of lunch, Rose let out a happy scream, “Prince Ali is coming back to town. He’s invited me to a fundraising gala for the children’s hospital. This Saturday.” The other girls immediately launched into excited screams.
The four, who had been exiled from the rest of the class, ignored them. Mostly because they were all going to the gala as a well. Adrien because of his father. Nathaniel because his art was being displayed. Chloe because she was Chloe. And Marinette because her great aunt was hosting it.
When four was the first to make it back to class and sat in their seats in the very back; talking amicably, they barely noticed the other students come in. But they did notice Rose when she ran to the back of the class with a huge smile on her face.
“Marinette!” Rose chirped. “I need a dress for the gala; something formal. Something sparkly.”
Marinette nodded, “Have your measurements changed.”
Rose shook her head quickly, her eyes still sparkly as she daydreamed about dancing with Prince Ali.
Marinette opened her bag and pulled out her brochure that Chloe had insisted she get to hand out. It included examples of dresses she previously made and prices for things like dresses, skirt, suits, anything. It had her phone number, her website information; everything. Adrien had gotten tips from his dad about how he started out and relayed them to Marinette. It made her feel like a real designer.
She handed the brochure to Rose, who took it absentmindedly. “Ok, then it would be about $475. $550 if you want the full princess look.”
“Wha-What?” Rose asked confused.
The other students in class looked confused as well apart from Adrien, Chloe, and Nathaniel who bore smirks.
“The dress you’re commissioning,” Marinette said slowly. “The estimated price for a rushed custom dress is between $475 and $550. It would’ve been a bit cheaper but you’re ordering it at the last minute. All my prices are in the brochure; standard for everyone. I would actually just purchase one the designs on my website; it would be less expensive than having me create something specifically for you.”
Rose looked at the brochure, her mind struggling to process. “But you-you always make my dress for free!”
“I didn’t really like to,” Marinette shrugged. “But you guys never really asked you just demanded; like you did when you walked in.” Rose looked a bit ashamed; because yes, she did just demand. “Materials are really expensive. Every free dress or any custom piece I gave out I had to increase the price for the rest of my commissions. It never seemed fair to my other customers. Which worked for me because I opened up my own design studio and office. MDC Designs.” It was in a richer part of Paris; in an unused part of an office building. It had tons of natural light and an amazing view; plus it was private. “Though for some reason, the high price just attracted more people. But you were my friends so I did it anyway. Now we’re not friends so I don’t have to anymore.”
“Rich people,” Chloe explained. “The more expensive something is, the more they want it.” The blond had become Marinette’s social media manager and business manager as well. Because of her MDC was becoming Instagram famous and had featured clothes on various runaways. She always hired all the models.
A devastated look appeared on Rose’s dress; she couldn’t afford a fancy new dress. She didn’t have enough money saved up for one. She never thought she’d have to save money for a dress. Marinette always made anything she wanted.
“And you wonder why no one likes you,” Alya hissed that the two girls.
Marinette leaned back in her chair, “I could make an effort to be liked but I rather be hated than inconvienced.”
“You don’t need her, Rose!” Alix snapped. “We’ll find you much better dress than she could ever make.”
Alya crossed her arms, “And it won’t look as tacky.”
“Good for you,” Marinette said happily, and went back to talking with her friends.
While shopping for Rose’s dress, the girls decided to pull up Marinette’s website so they could make fun of outfits. Unfortunately, they were hard pressed to find anything wrong with the fabulous dresses. Even Lila spotted several she wanted for herself.
Rose didn’t find a better dress than the ones Marinette’s website. At least not one for a price she could afford. She ended up re-wearing an elegant blue dress Marinette had given her the year before for a dance.
Though she had stumbled when The Emily Gilmore, world around philanthropist millionaire, brought her niece on stage and it turned around to be Marinette. Marinette wearing the most gorgeous silver dress Rose, and most of the party guests, had ever seen.
“That is a friend of yours from school, yes?” Prince Ali asked. “I didn’t know there was a Gilmore in Paris. They contribute much to my Go-Green Projects. Will you please introduce me?”
Rose froze. Because no, she wasn’t Marinette’s friend. And it was highly doubtful she’d get anywhere close to Marinette.
“They’re not friends actually,” Chloe said swooping in. “A bit of a falling out. I’m rather close with Marinette though. I’d love to introduce you now if you’re ready. Marinette was the one to get the Gilmore foundation to really take an interest in Going Green. They are always looking for new ideas.”
Prince Ali gave a quick look at Rose, “I’m sure it will not take long. Is it okay with you if I go?” Rose forced a happy smile on her face and nodded. “Thank you!”
Rose was forced to watch Prince Ali offer Chloe his arm.
“I’m surprised you did bring Lila Rossi?” Chloe drawled as they walked away, leaving Rose, alone in the middle of party where she hardly knew anyone. “I’ve heard so much about her own contributions to your Go-green projects.”
“Who is Lila Rossi?” She heard Prince Ali asked. And just like that, a little bit of Rose’s world came crashing down.
It was two days later, before the first bell rang, Alya rushed to Marinette’s desk, with big smile on her face and hope in her eyes. “Did you see the new heroes?” She asked excitedly. “BrightRoar and Killer Bee!” She shot a mean look at Chloe. “I guess you got replaced for being such a lousy hero.” She turned back to the bluenette. “I need another interview with Ladybug, like stat! When can you set it up?”
“I can’t,” Marinette said and went back to pulling out her school books for the day.
“Of course you can,” Alya insisted. “You always do it! You’re the one who got me my first interview with Ladybug and everything.”
Marinette rolled her eyes. Yet another demand. “No, I can’t.”
Chloe tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the desk, “What my best Mari (Adrien growled, “I will end you, Chloe!” Marinette was his best friend. But the other blond had been slowly invading Marinette’s room; leaving clothes and shows. A blanket on the top bunk though she knew Adrien had called dips.) is saying is that it’s not that she can’t, it’s that she won’t.”
“Why not?” Alya stomped her foot. “I need the deets on this now if I’m going to scoop Aurore and her BugOut site.”
“You’re not friends anymore,” Chloe taunted. “Why would she help you?”
“I-well, it just!” Alya struggled to find the right words to say. Because she never considered that Marinette wouldn’t want to help with her blog anymore. Or that she only did it because they were friends.
Marinette sighed, “No. I mean I really I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t even if I could.” She told her ex-friend and the other classmates listening in. “Ladybug only gave you interviews because we were friends. She always thought you were a bit much. When I told her we weren’t friends anymore, she decided to not work with the Ladyblog anymore.”
“That’s a lie!” Alya yelled.
“Then why don’t you ask Ladybug herself,” Chloe told her.
“I will!”
While Ladybug was patrolling that night it was to no one’s surprise that Alya stood of a roof top of a building and waved the hero down.
“Do you need help?” Ladybug asked the girl kindly once she was on the roof.
“I need an interview!” Alya said, her phone was out and she was live streaming. “Why did you replace Queen Bee? Is BrightRoar a lion or a tiger? Are they permanent?”
Ladybug looked puzzled, “I thought Marinette told you already. I won’t work with you or the Ladyblog anymore.”
Alya stepped back, shocked. “What? Why? I thought she was lying.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That you thought I was a bit much,” Alya growled darkly. “That I only got the interviews because I was her friend. Which was a lie; I got them because I’m an awesome reporter. And she said I wouldn’t get anymore interviews.”
Ladybug shook her head, “Marinette left out a lot of what I said,” At this Alya’s expression turned smug. “I did say you were a bit much. But I also said you’re blog had become a tabloid full of incorrect information that I just couldn’t support anymore. It keeps getting worse every day; I swear if I have one more person asking me about some girl named Lila Rossi, I’ll lose it. I don’t know a Lila Rossi, and she is not my best friend. Also, Chat Noir and I are not and will be never be dating; stop insisting that we love each other. I told Marinette, you were a bad journalist who needed to learn to check your sources and cite where your information. I should’ve stopped dealing with you a long time ago. Honestly, I thought working with you was a bad idea from the start. But I owed Marinette a favor, you are her friend. Oh sorry, I meant you were her friend.”
Alya stood stunned as the words washed over her.
“I wish Marinette wasn’t so nice sometimes,” Ladybug sighed, though Marinette was practically dancing on the inside. “She should’ve told you what I really said. I guess she just didn’t want to be mean. Good luck with everything, Alya.” And with that Ladybug swung away.
It took Alya another five minutes to realize she was still live streaming.
Alya thought she’d wake up to the entire world talking about her encounter with Ladybug but they weren’t. Sure there were dozens and dozens of complaints accusing her of lying to them but nothing to extreme.
Her friends comforted her as soon as she got to class. Alya barely noticed to down in the dumps. Lila had assured her that Ladybug was only trying to protect her which was why she pretended not to know the Italian girl. This relieved one of Alya’s concerns. Still, It was a hard pill to swallow but she realized that technically she owed all of the Ladyblog’s success to Marinette who had helped arrange multiple interviews and convinced Ladybug to work with her in the first place. All because Alya was Marinette’s friend. The Ladyblog was doomed.
Said Bluenette had walked passed Alya’s desk without so much as glance in her direction, instead talking amicably to Chloe.
A few hours later during the middle of a history lesson, every phone in class starting pinging rapidly with new notification to the point where Bustier instructed them to turn off their phones completely.
Bad idea.
“Bugout posted an interview with the entire Miraculous team,” Rose said excitedly.
Everyone was watching the interview within seconds, almost everyone Chloe watched Alya instead; drawing a suspicious look from Adrien. Bustier just sighed and got her phone out as well. To their surprise it wasn’t just four heroes, it was six.
Aurore gracefully interviewed Ladybug and Chat Noir about the coming and goings of everyday hero life. Then ask the big question; who were the new heroes.
“They are the new permanent members of Team Miraculous!” Ladybug announced with a smile on her face. “Killer Bee,” Chloe preened. She had to change her name and costume but she got to keep being a hero. “BrightRoar.” Nathaniel fought not to blush. He still couldn’t believe that Marinette chose him. “Viperion!” Luka had been thrilled to be offered a place on the team. “And Renard blanche.” Aurore had been given the fox miraculous and had created an illusion of the new fox hero so she could do the interview.
“What happened to Rena Rouge and Carapace?” Aurore asked.
“Permanently retired,” Killer Bee sniped. “They’re actions outside the mask were… untasteful. They showed themselves to be unworthy of being heroes. They were fired! At least Queen Bee got to resign with her dignity.”
Alya dropped her phone and rushed out of the room in tears; Nino and a few of her other friends following her. Nearly everyone in class thought it was because Aurore got the interview she had been wanted but four knew the truth.
“let’s take a quick break,” Bustier said softly, already mentally preparing for another akuma attack.
“That was mean.” Adrien told Chloe.
“No that was deserved,” Chloe stated. “Alya tried to get Max to hack into the MDC website and ruin it. I’m lucky Claude runs helped with our internet security or we’d have been screwed. Mean, was me taking your little Cat Bed and tossing it on the pullout. And replacing with it with a comforter set worthy of a Queen.”
Adrien’s eyes widened and he rushed out of the room, probably to Marinette’s to defend his territory. Honestly, Marinette thought, he was behaving more and more like a cat every day.
Marinette gave Chloe a look, “You’re still as horrible and evil as the day that Satan himself placed you in your mother’s arms.”
Chloe preened, “Oh, darling, that’s sweet.”
When Mylene got an amazing idea for a short, she immediately went to Nino to ask if he could direct. He said yes. While in Class, they immediately started making plans and cast roles and assigning jobs to the other members of class. . “We can start filming this weekend.”
“Marinette, you’ll do costumes again.” Nino said quickly. “And food! We need food.”
“No.” Marinette said back.
Nino was so busy making plans that it took a minute to process what she said. He looked up shock. “No? What do you mean no?
“I’m too busy with other commissions to take on your project,” Marinette said easily. “Plus even if I don’t design the clothes myself, there is a consultant fee; not to mention contracts to sign.”
Alya glared, “Contracts? For what? Its a school project!”
“No, it’s not.” Adrien snapped back. “It has nothing to do with school. We’re not being graded or anything.” He reminded them. “Marinette has a brand now. She has to protect it and her clients. That means non-disclosure agreements, security agreements. A contract will lay out just what she is responsible for and what she can bill you for. It keep that waters clear.”
Mylene frowned, “We don’t need all that.”
“You might not,” Adrien said defensively. “But people are starting to recognize MDC all around the world. A contract will stop you from using her name to boost your movie. Or maybe even stop you mentioning her in the credits all together.”
Marinette nodded, “Besides on my website and on the brochure on the class board, it clearly states for big projects like this; I need at least a three month warning. I’m swamped.”
Nino wanted to point out there Marinette always made time before. But he remembered Marinette saying not too long ago that she always made time for her friends. And they weren’t friends anymore.
In the next few weeks and months, the class got used to hearing the word No from Marinette.
Alix asked about getting a banner. Marinette said No.
Alya asked about getting food for the bake sale like always. Marinette told her she’d have to make an order at the bakery and pay for it in advance.
Kim needed a scarf for his mom. Marinette gave him her brochure.
Birthday party planning. Sorry, Marinette no longer provided that service; please review the brochure if further clarification is needed.
So to get back at the Bluenette, the class got her, and Chloe and Nathaniel, excluded from the Class field trips and class parties on the grounds that Marinette caused too much tension in the class. Lila insisted that Adrien would come around.
The four retaliated by no longer helping with any of the fundraising or contributing their own money. If they couldn’t go on the oh so special class trips, then why should they help pay for it? Unfortunately for the class, they had forgotten that a majority of the money donated came from what Marinette raised/Donated and what Chloe contributed.
Bustier’s class trips went from the envy of the school to “oh god, why are they on a farm?” Really fast.
And for every “amazing” trip the class went on and for every party they had, the four hosted their own events that ended up the talk of the entire school.
It took until the end of the school year for Lila to be finally be exposed.
Chloe, Marinette, and Aurore were having a mini spa day in Marinette’s room. Their faces were covered in green mud masks and their hair was in curlers and their wore pajamas.
When Adrien burst in the room, he screamed, “Akumas!”
Marinette through a pillow at his face, “That’s not funny, catboy.”
“Catman,” Adrien corrected with a laugh.
Marinette stated back, “Please! I’m more man than you’ll ever be.”
“Nino texted.” He kept forgetting to block his old friend’s number. “Dude! Lila’s a liar! Alya’s losing it.” He read the text of his phone. “Then five minutes later. Man, we screwed up big time, huh? A minute later. Sorry.”
“About time,” Aurore shook her head. “For a self-proclaimed amazing journalist it took Alya way too long to figure Lila out.”
“She didn’t want to believe it,” Marinette shrugged. “She’s not big on admitting when she’s wrong. Or when she’s gone too far. I admittedly enabled her for a long time.”
“Everyone did,” Adrien frowned.
Chloe rolled her eyes, “The class is going to come groveling back on Monday.”
“Let them,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “I’m done with fake friends.”
The girls nodded. The low sound of small click got their attention. All eyes went to Adrien who still had his phone out.
Chloe stood up, “I swear, Adrien, if you took a picture of me on your cell phone; I will kill you and eat you.”
Adrien held his ground, “Surrender the top bunk or I post it on Instagram.”
Aurore blinked, and then looked at Marinette confused, “They know this isn’t their room right?”
Marinette face-palmed, “I don’t even know anymore.”
Monday, as Chloe predicted, the class did come groveling back.
Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, and Nathaniel walked into class only to see that everyone had rearraged the seats again to what it was originally before Lila came.
The bluenette nodded, “Time to get serious!”
Chloe and Adrien’s expressions turned cold. Chloe cast a look at the still friendly looking redhead, “Nathaniel, put on your game face.”
Nathaniel quickly tried to look stern.
“Not your gay face,” Chloe hissed. “You’re game face.”
“They’re the same face,” Nathaniel whispered.
Marinette crossed her arms, “What’s going on here?”
Alya frowned, “This is our way of saying sorry. We should have never believe Lila. The rotten liar turned us against you.”
“No!” Marinette shook her head. “Saying sorry is saying sorry. And don’t blame Lila for you chose to do.”
Chloe marched to the back of the class, and glared at Rose and Juleka, “You’re in our seats!”
Rose tried not to panic, “It’s not your seat anymore. You’re up front with Sabrina again.”
“Let’s try this again…” Chloe leaned down, and glared hard. “MOVE!” She yelled.
The girls scrambled out of the chairs.
With a huff, the remaining three walked to the back of the class without another word.
The four sat down and glared at the rest of the class.
“You guys can come on the class trip with us now!” Kim offered.
Nathaniel snorted, “Yeah, i don’t do camping.”
“We couldn’t any way,” Chloe said. “While you’re camping for a week. We’ll be in England for our own class trip.”
She got envious looks.
“We can come with!” Alix smiled. “It’ll be a blast.”
“No,” Marinette said. “We had to save up all year for this trip. We already made reservations. You can’t come. I wouldn’t want you to anyway. It’s too much tension. Why don’t you go find Lila? I’m sure she’d take you back.”
“Girl, didn’t you hear us?” Alya said. “We’re sorry!”
“Oh I know you’re sorry,” Marinette said coldly, “I just don’t know why you think that matters.”
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Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum
Long before the witches of Gen-Z claimed TikTok as their digital coven, and even before the Geocities-scattered digital landscapes of Web 1.0, a thousands-strong community once formed via the world’s phone lines to trade spells, advise on sigils, and correspond on spiritual guidance. It was called the Pagan And Occult Distribution Network, or PODSnet: a slice of occult internet history that helped pioneer mass online collaboration.
Today, it’s easy to take for granted that online communities are only a few taps away, but in the 1980s and early 1990s, finding like-minded individuals in niche subject areas was practically revolutionary. And in the case of PODSnet, it provided an unusually free space to discuss the esoteric arts—for many of its members, for the first time ever.
"In the 1990s and 1990s, accessing the social media of the day was very different than it is today,” Farrell McGovern, a PODSnet cofounder who came to Paganism through books about quantum physics such as The Dancing Wu Li Masters, told Motherboard. “It was louder, slower, and connectivity was perilous.”
In the early 1980s, computing enthusiasts began using Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) to communicate with each other. These systems were a precursor to the World Wide Web, and although relatively primitive, paved the way for the always-on communication of today.
Because BBS ran on phone lines, discussions were asynchronous and often confined to local groups due to the dramatic costs of dialing farther afield than your own state. What’s more, the boards were isolated from one another: an analogy might be if every single subreddit needed its own website, and you could only speak to users in your immediate area.
But in 1984, artist and technician Tom Jennings created FidoNet, a network that could connect all of these BBS systems. With the advent of cheaper modems, FidoNet’s popularity exploded into a huge 20,000-node network that connected users all around the world. Eventually, something called Echomail was introduced by a system operator, or sysop, called Jeff Rush, allowing for the support of public forums.
Instead of simply picking up your smartphone, BBS users would have to connect their computer to a modem, which was linked to a phone line—translating digital 1s and 0s into audio information and back again to the modem and terminal operating the BBS.
Popular BBSes would frequently return a busy signal: unlike today, actually logging off was necessary because only one connection was allowed at a time. A successful login returned a screen of text and a list of messages grouped into categories, with the software tracking the ones you had read. Here, users would respond to text, download what they could, and hang up.
Here, a BBS called "Magicknet" flourished, but one problem in particular spurred its users to found their own splinter network: Christian fundamentalists had infiltrated the group to spy on members.
This infiltration led to a number of incidents, including McGovern being written up in the magazine of infamous cult figure Lyndon Larouche as a “well-known witch from Toronto”. Given the various tabloid-led "Satanic panics" at the time, founding an independent BBS was not only right for promoting lively metaphysical discourse, it was a matter of safety too.
“People were losing their jobs, child custody, etc,” McGovern told Motherboard. “People had to move to escape persecution in some areas: very much so in the Bible Belt, but in other places, too. Unless you were in a major metropolitan area, and even then, you ran some degree of risk if you were outed.”
McGovern was first involved in his local BBS scene around Ottawa in the mid-1980s. Working at a local computer store that sold Apple and IBM PC clones, McGovern set up the Data/Sfnet BBS to advertise the business. In doing so, he became a SysOp—a system operator who ran, maintained, and in many cases built a network—granting him honorary entry to the computing elite at the time.
Being based in Canada, McGovern was the first to help Magicknet go international before it split into PODSnet, which would swell to 10,000 members who accessed the BBS by dialling into the 93 "zone number"—a reference to Thelema, the spiritual movement developed by Aleister Crowley.
The logo of the PODSnet bulletin board system.
For author and occult store supplier Dorothy Morrison, who was raised Catholic but eventually joined a coven of practicing witches in California before forming one of her own, discovering PODSnet was an “incredible way to find so many people of like mind at one place”.
“It was a place where I could be myself, regardless of the fact I really was living in a very conservative, buttoned-down state,” Morrison told Motherboard. “It wasn’t just a safe haven for me, it was an escape from having to appear to be someone I wasn’t for safety reasons."
“When someone wants to burn you at the stake—at that time Missouri was not a place that would’ve taken kindly to Witches—you certainly don’t tell them where you keep the gas can,” she said.
The atmosphere on PODSnet was typically collaborative and friendly, said Morrison, and the most arresting dramas on the board she was aware of usually related to the enormous phone bills that came from connecting to the network. (Although once or twice these charges “damned near landed some folks in divorce court.")
But, like the internet today, there were hints of gossip, rumours, and fake news. One popular cause for the community was the supposed persecution of 9 million witches by Christians (The whole idea was based on bad scholarship, according to McGovern). At one point, there was a six-year-long debate on whether or not Kate Bush is Wiccan—perhaps one of the most heated internet disputes of its time.
Whatever the topic, much of these PODSnet discussions would have been lost to time were it not for a community effort to archive the cherished message board. Still accessible in its archived ASCII form today, PODSnetters worked together to produce what was perhaps the first mass collaborative online project of its type: a massive, crowdsourced digital grimoire called the Internet Book of Shadows.
The name of the enormous seven-volume text references the catch-all "Book of Shadows," a name commonly used for tomes of spells and rituals, and the text covers the A-Zs of alternative spirituality from "Asatru to Zen Buddhism." Chapter one alone is 70,000 words long, and there’s a varied store of stuff available within, including an essay about bashing fluffy bunnies (the tendency among some well-seasoned practitioners to troll newbies, as opposed to bashing actual rabbits), a guide to cleansing rituals called "smudging," and an introduction to the suppressed traditions of Gnosticism.
Plenty of contributors to the Book of Shadows remain involved in esoteric spiritual communities today, and some, like Morrison, became authors in their own right.
One of Dorothy Morrison’s favorite contributions to the Internet Book of Shadows.
Morrison says the book of rituals, spells, stories, legends, and “other magic-related miscellany” took seven 5-inch loose-leaf binders to contain it when she once decided to print out the information the community had amassed. The community then began compiling the grimoire into downloadable digital files.
Once it was finished, PODSnet users agreed to offer the Book of Shadows as a gift, free of charge, to the community. While they were copyrighted, they were free to use and copy under the proviso that there was no charge for their acquisition—leading to later frustrations about unauthorized reproductions of the manuscript for profit.
“It’s probably the largest collection of pagan thought that was freely available to copy for non-commercial use,” McGovern added.
According to Dan Harms, an author and librarian at SUNY Cortland, magick practice has thrived on community-produced documents throughout history. Even during the print era, there was a “tremendous sort of traffic in books, manuscripts being passed back and forth between people,” chopping and changing aspects of the manuscripts they liked before copying them out.
“What was really different here, is that when the material was copied or created, it’s put up online for everybody to see,” Harms said. “It becomes a collective memory. It’s not something that’s stuck on somebody’s shelf, it’s something everybody can get into.”
Harms told Motherboard that communities like PODSnet were of enormous importance for establishing networks of occult practitioners and helped lay the groundwork for driving a boom in occult publishing.
“I was growing up in rural Kentucky with an interest in these kinds of arcane topics,” said Harms, who wasn't involved in the occult internet at the time of PODSnet but was an active Usenet user. “It was just so hard to find any sort of information – you would have to rely on the local library. But the local library in rural Kentucky is probably not looking to fill up its shelves with books about magic and paganism and things like that.”
Today, what was once a recondite pocket of the primordial internet has hit the mainstream, with even the Financial Times covering the "WitchTok" phenomenon. Speaking with PODSnetters, there’s a sense that in today's online spaces, community and information exchange can often take a backseat to clout and hostility. “[But] how much of that is getting older and yelling ‘get off my grass’,” asks McGovern, “or true insight – only time will say.”
Whatever the case, PODSnet—which closed around the turn of the millennium before hopping to Yahoo Groups, LiveJournal, and now with its remnants on Facebook—proved that digital technologies can bring disparate people together in a meaningful way, where they are happy to create and produce for the good of their communities.
“I remember those I met along that journey, what they taught me—not only about the Craft, but about myself—and the connections I made," said Morrison.“I remember how fortunate I was that PODSnet was there for me. To a large degree, that experience formed the person I am today, and I'll be forever grateful.”
Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/
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How To Select A Contractor For Your Architectural Project And What NOT To Do
I'm sure you have actually heard the age-old dispute of the designer and professional not managing. Today's culture is moving in the direction of interdisciplinary professions, as well as people are obtaining significantly much better at the workplace with each other, slowly relieving this problem. A lot more design/build companies (where the specialists as well as architects are both benefiting the exact same company) have started to emerge, yet not every one of the perceived benefits are really valuable. One common claim made by design develop companies is that architects don't understand how to build, as well as having in-house service providers eases the lots of issues that arise because of this. First, we have the extremely apparent answer that you can not repaint the entire profession with a broad brush stroke. Do I require to remind you to pick an architect with actual experience? No? Excellent. Second, if you were to for a short time entertain that all engineers don't understand how things go together, the claim that service providers are pertaining to the rescue would hold true, despite whether the two line of work become part of one business or separate companies. I have actually recognized both architects and contractors that have actually owned design/build companies that returned to their corresponding edges. WHY? They couldn't do both the style and also building and construction well, AND pay at the exact same time. Bottom line right here: paying attention? The reality is, in our swiftly changing world, it is tough sufficient to be good at one kind of organization, let alone two. When you have actually the added concern of worrying yourself with both professions AND paying, the client will always shed. It is an inherent dispute of passion. Component of our task as your engineer is to safeguard your interests. We are your advocate and create an agreement collection of papers (your building illustrations are really properly called "contract records") to show your dreams, with which you agree on a cost with a professional. If the person writing your agreement and also the person executing it are under one roofing system, it would certainly resemble permitting your insurance provider to figure out which medicine you take ... Oh wait ... they do. I like that. Do not you?
An excellent service provider is worth his or her king's ransom. It takes years of experience and also a creative, yet practical thinker, to visualize challenges boiling down the pipe, and also act appropriately among the many professions as well as details involved. I have miraculous regard forever service providers and also take pleasure in dealing with them. When choosing a contractor, you should call around and also chat briefly with as lots of as you can to get a feel for their individuality as well as the globe in which you are about to embark. I make sure you've discovered some arbitrary short articles online like, "The 5 questions you require to ask professionals", or "The 3 things you need to look out for when picking a specialist". If not, you should go discover some, as there are numerous them, and a lot of them are valuable. I wish to focus on another thing below.
There are a vast array of professionals that will give you with a lovely array of quotes for the same amount of work, and you need to know exactly how to make sense of all of it. Take a go back as well as consider the big picture. You have your low, medium and also high contractors to select from. You require to begin by asking on your own what degree of service you are expecting. If you want super creative, one-of-a-kind, customized information, built with the highest degree of craftsmanship, don't anticipate the reduced to tool priced contractors to do it. I'm presuming a number of them could, if given endless time and budget plan, however their low or medium valued estimate suggests that isn't what they are planning for your project. If you are just trying to find an uncomplicated as well as comfortable house needing less specific talents, after that perhaps you do want to deal with a service provider that costs less, yet take into consideration the complying with. Most professionals acquire their materials from the same places as well as make use of similar sub-contractors that, in order to be competitive, need to bill affordable (i.e. comparable) prices. Consequently, many times the reason Professional A's price quote is so much lower than Specialist B's and also C's isn't since they have the within track on extremely affordable labor as well as products, right? And also if they did, my guess is they would certainly still bill you the going rate and also maintain the revenue on their own. Provided, I'm sure some individuals are much better at the office at a more fast rate than others, but probably it will take the exact same amount of time to frame your kitchen no matter that does it. Taking all of that into factor to consider, it comes to be clear that your project is going to set you back a certain price no matter who does it. The differences is whether you will certainly learn about the added prices beforehand (in an in-depth estimate) or after the truth (via change orders). I am not indicating that low-priced professionals are being unethical. They are human. Everyone suches as to tell individuals what they intend to hear, as well as everyone suches as to earn a profit. Find more info Arquiteto São Paulo
Nevertheless, if you are a numbers kind of individual, one of the only black and white numbers you can quickly compare is how much each service provider increases his or her services and products. I have actually seen percentages varying from 10-20%, as well as you can typically locate this in a lump sum plainly defined at the end of the price quote. Beyond that, the demonstration still needs to be transported away, the coatings still require to be added, and also the structure still needs to be confined. If one quote consists of demo yet doesn't include the carrying as well as discard charges, creating a visibly cheaper estimate, do you believe that the contractor is just going to turn the expense for that out of his or her very own goodwill? No, you will. Surprise! Don't pick your contractor based upon that has the lowest quote, as many times all it means is that it is doing not have points the other service providers have actually included.
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So, Waitress is closing and Why I am Happy about that: An Exceedingly long essay Rant about Broadway
Look. Nobody's gonna read this, most likely, but it's 2 in the morning and my brain's been obsessing over Broadway (more than usual, anyway) since communing with my people at intensive this week. So, in the interest of getting some sleep before 8 hrs of dance and shitty high notes tomorrow, here goes.
I love classic, high-school-and-community standard musicals. I love new and experimental musicals. I love Disney film-to-stage musicals. I love institution musicals like Chorus Line, Cats, and Wicked; I even have a soft spot for Phantom. I am eagerly anticipating West Side Story next Christmas (seriously, I have a calander).
BUT.
As I said to one of my fellow dancers during post-class stretch (after noting his insane flexibilty and making yet another resolution to stretch more) I am Sick to GoDAMnEd DEATH of revivals, franchise adaptions, and restagings taking up the Broadway and greater theater markets.
I get why it's happening; I do. Musical theater, even shows that never make it out of Regional productions (Be More Chill, btw, I'm so proud of you bby :'-D ) are REALLY FREAKING EXPENSIVE, not just to stage, but also to develop. Broadway productions nowadays regularly go upwards of TENS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS in costs.
Those costs are more and more frequently being met through funding by large groups of wealthy investors, who can expect basically little to no return on that investment. Only a select few shows that make it to the Great White Way do well enough to turn a profit (let alone the kinds of numbers that Hamilton, DEH, and Wicked continue to make), and more and more shows are closing in defict or once they break even. (Coincidentally, this is probably why we're seeing more and more straight plays on Broadway, especially in limited engagements. They're quicker, cheaper, and still have the same level of prestige.)
It makes sense then to assume that a show linked to an already successful property has a better chance of reaching that break-even mark, or perhaps generating a small return, than a more original idea. It's a surer bet, and we've seen it a lot these past few seasons. Anastasia, Beetlejuice, Pretty Woman, Moulin Rouge, Mean Girls... we get it. We promise. Investors want some security in an extremely and notoriously insecure market before they're willing to lay out the dough.
I get it. Everybody gets it.
And, to be fair, some of those shows are and continue to be GOOD. Tony nominees and award winners, even. But here's the problem: it's boring.
And not because I know how Act 2 ends without getting spoilers on tumblr. Unless they're younger than ten, the population of Broadway-and-musicals fans generally has a good handle on where a show's relevant plotlines are going. It's really not the wanting to know the end that keeps your butt in your overpriced red velvet seat and your eyes on the stage. It's the score, the words, occasionally the choreography, and most importantly the magicians on, off, and backstage bringing those things to life in a new and interesting way.
The antithesis of this, then, is having to watch slavish recreation of iconic scenes, lines, and characters from iconic films, presented Onstage! (TM), now with Bonus Songs! for your reconsumption. (Yes, Pretty Woman, I'm looking at you.)
Hey, I love Pretty Woman the Movie, slightly dodgy messages about feminity aside. I love it as a movie, and I really don't need to watch the knock off version of it, even if it comes in a shiny Broadway package.
Anastasia, and Beetlejuice, on the other hand, work extrodinarily well as musicals because they are NOT carbon copies of the original, somehow miraculously transplanted onto the stage.
Ironically, musicals based on original ideas are actually some of the most successful and well reviewed recent productions. Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Come From Away, and Hadestown this season are all original works, and well, look at them. (Fishy, huh? Coincidence, I think the fuck not.)
Recently I got to see The Prom on Broadway, the day after I saw Pretty Woman. The contrast between shows and my enjoyment of them was well defined. I couldn't look away from The Prom, despite many of the major story beats being as obvious as our Cheeto-in-Chief's spray tan. I and the entire rest of the theater were completely engaged by what was going on onstage, both comedically and dramatically. At Pretty Woman, I found myself checking the Playbill to see how many songs were left for me to make it through and anxiously comparing the size of my thighs to the dancers onstage to pass the time (ah, pre pro Body Issues, welcome back! We all thought you'd retired!)
Three guesses which show I'd choose to see again.
When I read that Waitress was closing, the first thing I did was panic and start marking pre January weekends where I would both be free and possibly have disposable income (I've never gotten to see the show, and frankly I would like too). My second reaction was, yes, to mourn the closure of a wonderful show, but it was mixed with hopeful anticipation. Waitress had a good long time in the sun, and just like a well lived life, eventually it must and should end. It's better, in my humble student opinion, to live with memories and cast albums (and regional productions) than the stodgy life of a show that's jealously clung to its Broadway berth through the tourist-and-date-night trade (*cough*Phantom*cough*). It's sort of like your 40 something mother taking selfies in booty shorts in an effort to prove she's still 'hip' and in her twenties. Cringe.
Ephemera is the nature of live performance, and probably part of its allure. And just like in the natural world, old things have to end so that new things can become. Waitress closing is a vital part of this cycle.
Broadway has a limited number of theaters. That's a hard and absolute fact. Maybe a quarter of them are effectively taken off the market for new shows by productions apparently cursed with immortality. Waitress has just opened up another spot both physically and creatively for a new project- hopefully something we haven't seen before- and I hope to God, Satan, and Sondheim that it doesn't get filled with another franchise spinoff, celebrity jukebox musical, or -Lin Miranda forbid - yet another revival.
Why the revival hate, though? Aren't revivals an major way to revisit the landmark and important musicals of the past and bring them to a new audience?
Well, yes. They are, especially when they're staged and presented with the emphasis on letting the music and words speak for themselves and giving the actors leeway to work with the material, without the typical levels of Broadway Extra (TM) and creative meddling from the producers. (The recent Lincoln Center staging of A Chorus Line is a good example of the stripped down style I'm talking about.) But even if they have their place, once again, revivals (while valuable and cool and all that) are Something We've Already Seen.
Let's take Newsies for example. A show with a huge fan base (mostly teen, mostly girls) who I frequently see wishing for a revival.
Now, I am a raging Newsies fan. Newsies is the show that got me started on attempting to make a profession out of dance and theater. I can sing both the OBC and Live albums back to front. I may or may not have had embarrassing crushes on certain cast and characters that I will take to my grave (I'll never tell and you'll never know, mwahhaha). So, do I love and worship ever iteration of this show? Yes. Do I wish I had been able to see either the Natl Tour or Broadway productions? Hell yes, with all my heart. Do I wish the Gatelli choreography was in any way accessible for me to learn? More than I want Broadway tickets to cost less than my soul, kidney, and hypothetical but unlikely first born combined.
But do I want a Broadway revival? Hell FUCKING No.
It's over, it's done, and it lives on in reinterpretation in regional and junior productions. Good. That, to be quite honest, is where it should belong.
It doesn't need to be rehashed on the biggest stages, and to be frank, neither do most of the ultra popular revivals that have been happening. (Yes, Ali Stoker is awesome and deserves the world, but Broadway does not need Oklahoma. If you need to see it that bad, go find a high school production somewhere. I recommend the midwest.) Broadway does not need 1776 (even though I am looking forward to it). Broadway does not need a Sweeney Todd revival (even though I want one like I want ice cream after suffering through jazz class in an un-air-conditioned studio on a 90 degree afternoon with no breeze. Seriously, I might be making sacrifices at my altar to this cause in the back of my closet).
Broadway needs musicals that are at least nominally original, and if not, come from something obscure enough (Kinky Boots, Waitress, Newsies) that they can make their own way. Barring that, investors, writers, and directors, please have the courage and decency to take established content in a new direction. Please, I'm begging you. I'd honestly-and-truly much rather sit through something that didn't try to shove the better version of itself down my throat even as it bored and annoyed me to tears. If I'm going to pay $80+ to sit through two hours of something terrible (and less engaging than my dancer body image issues) at least let me get my money's worth in unique horribleness.
#broadway#newsies#hadestown#mean girls#anastasia the musical#musical theater#waitress#hamilton#beetlejuice#tony awards
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Explained: Energy Storage
Batteries play two key roles in the energy sector: maintaining consistent grid voltage, a function called frequency regulation, and multi-hour storage for intermittent electricity harvested from wind and solar sources (read more here).
One battery dominates the current marketplace: lithium ion. The high-energy density (storage capacity per volume) of lithium ion cells makes them a great match for portable electronics, substantiating their widespread use in mobile phones, laptops, and electric vehicles. Though developed for these smaller applications, lithium ion accounts for more than 80% of utility-scale battery storage.
These cells, however, have two major issues. Firstly, operating them in high temperatures severely reduces their battery cycle life, thus temperature controls are needed to keep them cool. Those controls, in turn, create a “parasitic” drain on electricity that reduces overall cell efficiency. The flammability of lithium ion electrolytes is the second, even more serious concern. In addition to highly-publicized Tesla vehicle and Samsung smartphone battery fires, a number of utility-scale battery installations have burst into flames, most recently at Arizona Public Service’s McKicken storage facility in April 2019.
Researchers are developing materials and designs to produce cells that are safer, cheaper, have a longer battery life, and perform better in hot climates than existing lithium ion batteries. Some notable possibilities include lithium-metal, lithium-sulfur, solid-state batteries incorporating ceramics or solid polymers, and “flow batteries” with external tanks that allow for easy expansion of storage capacity.
PRICES DROP, DEMAND SURGES
The shortcomings of lithium ion batteries haven’t hindered their exponential growth in the US battery storage market. From just a few megawatts a decade ago, utility-scale battery installations reached 866 megawatts of power capacity by February 2019, and total battery storage is expected to approach 4.5 gigawatts of cumulative capacity by 2024 – a significant leap, but still just a fraction of a percent of overall U.S. generating capacity. To safeguard grid stability against increased consumption and demand uncertainty, deeper investments in energy storage will be needed, for longer-duration, inter-day storage equaling roughly 3-7% of renewable energy-based electricity production.
Though lithium ion prices continue to plummet, as production ramps up. Between 2010 and 2018, the average price of a lithium ion battery pack dropped from $1,160 per kilowatt-hour to $176 per kilowatt-hour – an 85% reduction in just eight years. Within the next few years, Bloomberg New Energy Finance predicts a further drop in price to $94 per kilowatt-hour in 2024 and $62 per kilowatt-hour in 2030.
This huge decline in battery prices has economically enabled solar plants to be paired with storage, particularly in states where high electricity rates coincide with strong policy (like high renewable portfolio standards). A Hawaiian solar-plus-storage plant on the island of Kauai is expected to save 2.8 million gallons of diesel oil annually while supplying 65% of the island’s peak nighttime electric load. It is part of a cohort of new and planned solar-plus-storage facilities that will help Hawaii meet a regulatory mandate requiring 70% renewable energy-based electricity by 2030 and 100% renewable electricity by 2045.
In California, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power has also committed to making battery storage an integral part of its infrastructure. In September 2019, it approved a power purchase agreement that will provide 400 megawatts of solar power and 1,200 megawatt-hours of battery-stored energy for an astonishingly low price of 3.3 cents per kilowatt-hour, making it a cheaper source of electricity than natural gas. Along with the advantage of favorable economics, this deal was driven by the city’s commitment to deliver customers 100% renewable electricity by 2045.
MICROGRIDS
Along with their utility-scale functions, batteries are emerging as key elements in microgrids – small-scale power systems that can supplement or substitute for grid-supplied electricity. The recent spate of hurricanes and wildfires knocking out grid-supplied electricity has brought significant awareness to microgrids, especially for emergency shelters, hospitals, and similar applications. Creating “energy islands” by pairing battery storage with solar arrays creates a degree of local energy autonomy if grid power is lost (now being planned for Puerto Rico). This architecture is valuable for responding to cyber-threats as well as extreme weather events.
THE NEXT GENERATION
What technologies are out there to meet our growing demand (25-62% increase by 2050, according to NREL), and replace the hazardous, inefficient lithium ion cell?
Pumped-Storage Hydropower: Pumped-storage hydro (PSH) facilities are large-scale energy storage plants that use gravitational force to generate electricity. Water is pumped to a higher elevation for storage during low-cost energy periods and high renewable energy generation periods. When electricity is needed, water is released back to the lower pool, generating power through turbines. Recent innovations have allowed PSH facilities to have adjustable speeds, in order to be more responsive to the needs of the energy grid, and also to operate in closed-loop systems. A closed loop PSH operates without being connected to a continuously flowing water source, unlike traditional pumped-storage hydropower, making pumped-storage hydropower an option for more locations.
In comparison to other forms of energy storage, pumped-storage hydropower can be cheaper, especially for very large capacity storage (which other technologies struggle to match). According to the Electric Power Research Institute, the installed cost for pumped-storage hydropower varies between $1,700 and $5,100/kW, compared to $2,500/kW to 3,900/kW for lithium-ion batteries. Pumped-storage hydropower is more than 80 percent energy efficient through a full cycle, and PSH facilities can typically provide 10 hours of electricity, compared to about 6 hours for lithium-ion batteries. Despite these advantages, the challenge of PSH projects is that they are long-term investments: permitting and construction can take 3-5 years each. This can scare off investors who would prefer shorter-term investments, especially in a fast-changing market.
Compressed Air Energy Storage (CAES): With compressed air storage, air is pumped into an underground hole, most likely a salt cavern, during off-peak hours when electricity is cheaper. When energy is needed, the air from the underground cave is released back up into the facility, where it is heated and the resulting expansion turns an electricity generator. This heating process usually uses natural gas, which releases carbon; however, CAES triples the energy output of facilities using natural gas alone. CAES can achieve up to 70% energy efficiency when the heat from the air pressure is retained, otherwise efficiency is between 42-55%.
Thermal (including Molten Salt): Thermal energy storage facilities use temperature to store energy. When energy needs to be stored, rocks, salts, water, or other materials are heated and kept in insulated environments. When energy needs to be generated, the thermal energy is released by pumping cold water onto the hot rocks, salts, or hot water in order to produce steam, which spins turbines. Thermal energy storage can also be used to heat and cool buildings instead of generating electricity. For example, thermal storage can be used to make ice overnight to cool a building during the day. Thermal efficiency can range from 50 percent to 90 percent depending on the type of thermal energy used.
Flow Batteries: Flow batteries are an alternative to lithium-ion batteries. While less popular than lithium-ion batteries—flow batteries make up less than 5& of the battery market—flow batteries have been used in multiple energy storage projects that require longer energy storage durations. Flow batteries have relatively low energy densities and have long life cycles, which makes them well-suited for supplying continuous power.
Solid State Batteries: Solid state batteries have multiple advantages over lithium-ion batteries in large-scale grid storage. Solid-state batteries contain solid electrolytes which have higher energy densities and are much less prone to fires than liquid electrolytes, such as those found in lithium-ion batteries. Their smaller volumes and higher safety make solid-state batteries well suited for large-scale grid applications.
However, solid state battery technology is currently more expensive than lithium-ion battery technology because it is less developed. Fast-growing lithium-ion production has led to economies of scale, which solid-state batteries will find hard to match in the coming years.
Hydrogen: Hydrogen fuel cells, which generate electricity by combining hydrogen and oxygen, have appealing characteristics: they are reliable and quiet (with no moving parts), have a small footprint and high energy density, and release no emissions (when running on pure hydrogen, their only byproduct is water). The process can also be reversed, making it useful for energy storage: electrolysis of water produces oxygen and hydrogen. Fuel cell facilities can, therefore, produce hydrogen when electricity is cheap, and later use that hydrogen to generate electricity when it is needed (in most cases, the hydrogen is produced in one location, and used in another). Hydrogen can also be produced by reforming biogas, ethanol, or hydrocarbons, a cheaper method that emits carbon pollution. Though hydrogen fuel cells remain expensive (primarily because of their need for platinum, an expensive metal), they are being used as primary and backup power for many critical facilities (telecom relays, data centers, and credit card processing).
Flywheels: Flywheels are not suitable for long-term energy storage, but are very effective for load-leveling and load-shifting applications. Flywheels are known for their long-life cycle, high-energy density, low maintenance costs, and quick response speeds. Motors store energy into flywheels by accelerating their spins to very high rates (up to 50,000 rpm). The motor can later use that stored kinetic energy to generate electricity by going into reverse. Flywheels are commonly left in a vacuum so as to minimize air friction, which would slow the wheel.
For further information or strategy consultation regarding raising seed round, advisory partnership and creation of business plan including extended pitch deck, you may contact Cleantech Ventures.
#energy#solar power#save energy#wind energy#flywheel#thermal energy storage market#energy conservation#energy costs#energy crisis
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2019 Wishlist
Greetings All & Blessed Be
I hope this finds you having a wonderful season thus far.
My name is Jaimi, I am an indie author, who is fighting for disability due to a combination of physical and mental health complication, working on trying to figure out how to get a bookstore, farm market & artisan craft store up and running at the same time. It's a bit of a balancing act since my health means I can only work rarely, and I planned for others to actually do the majority of the work. It's also a balancing act as it can be used against me.
While there are amazon lists, do not feel like you have to get the stuff from amazon. Instead, if you have some of it floating around, know where you can get it for cheaper, or simply don't like amazon, I have no issues providing an address to send it to! I can be contacted on here or by email at [email protected]. Since this list will cover several different people, I am not going to post the addresses here for safety reasons. I've had a stalker in the past, so now I like knowing when I give it out.
That said, here are my requests for myself, friends and family.
1. Amazon Wishlist house supplies for Shelk & boys. She's a single mom, with two sons. While she got a job a little earlier this year, and it was supposed to become permanent in November, it's rather up in the air due to the business recently being sold, and the new owners are considering changing out staff. That means every penny she makes goes towards food, lot rent (which she is paying catch up on from when she was unemployed) and the utilities. If you'd be able to save money by buying the stuff you want to send or have some of it from stocking up and want to share, message me for her address!
2. Amazon Wishlist gift ideas for Shelk & the boys. Shelk loves to read - fantasy, romance, and stuff with happy endings mostly, but since she doesn't have a device that can do ebooks, she does paperbacks. N (elder nephew - 10 years old) is getting into science, enjoys reading mysteries and spy stuff, likes the Marvel heroes, and has recently started journaling & keeping a planner that he likes to decorate with stickers! J (younger nephew - 5, years old & turns 6 the day before Christmas) adores mindcraft, building blocks, play money, food, stickers, or house stuff (all of it from the cooking to the mechanics stuff), and cars! There is a combination of toys they have requested, plus things they have not but have shown interest in the past on the list.
3. Amazon Wishlist Food or Full Cart for Rachel & family . Rachel takes care of her mom and helps her aunt, while dealing with her own health issues. She's been told she's not qualified for disability because she didn't work enough and is not old enough, even though she has had progressive issues that are following along the same route as her mom's. There are three people in the family. All food from the Omaha Steaks company done on one order gets a single shipping cost from my experimentation, making it cheaper to do multiples rather than singles.
4. Amazon Wishlist gift ideas for Rachel & family. All three members of the family are into crafts. When living with disabilities, it's best to find what brings you joy. For them, it's creating things. They love all sorts of crafts, everything from planners and scrap books, to knitting and sewing, to coloring. It is not uncommon for them to save up their change to get craft bags from ReStores. Craft bags are pieces of fabric, random things of thread, and other odds & ins to make stuff. Sometimes they find larger things of cloth to work with, and other times not. no matter what the craft material, one of the three will come up with something for it. The only thing is it has to be perfume free as all three are allergic to perfumes. There is also a collection of gift cards, to allow them a chance to spoil themselves, some are food related, some are store related.
5. Amazon Wishlist hobby and gift ideas for my ma. She had a stroke in 2008, since then she has been struggling to discover who she is with the disabilities it left her. At this time she's working on escaping an abusive relationship, where her partner has a bad habit of treating her like a burden and useless. It's broken her self esteem the rest of the way, along with worsening her depression. I am trying to help her find things that she will enjoy, that she can do rather than simply sit and think of that which is lost.
6. Home Depot or Lowe's Gift Cards! All four houses have various projects that need to be worked on. Shelk - trying to finish replacing the bad plumbing and molded insulation to keep her home warm for the boys and herself, there's a few other things that need dealt with too. Jaimi - trying to replace old and raggedy carpet with floor tiles, also has plumbing that needs fixed, two base board heaters that are glitching, and a window in need of replacing. Pattie (my ma) - needs a new dishwasher so on bad days she can put the dishes in there and use it, needs to fix the sink, and do something with the carpet. Rachel - kitchen sink and counter totally needs replaced, bathroom sink needs fixed, a few other random things.
7. Amazon Wishlist for me, cause yes besides the necessities of repairing the house, there is some fun stuff I'd love to get but can't bring myself to use my bill money for. Any and all art supplies, whether they are on there, from a thrift store, extras just laying around, or from a dollar store are welcome! I have yet to come across an art supply I cannot use in some way.
8. Cards and letters - any of us, plus I know that myself, Rachel, Paula, Dawn, and Pattie will send thank you cards for them. Addresses will be provided on request! they don't have to be fancy, expensive, or long. It's nice to get little cards from people. A little sign that we're not alone over the season, when sometimes hard times and health problems strike the worst.
9. I have a service dog named Winston who I am making payments on, there is still $1,300 left on him. The sooner I get him paid off, the sooner that money goes back towards the bills. Any help towards that would be appreciated. I can provide the loan company and information who would like go that route, there is also my Ko-Fi, PayPal email ([email protected]) or GoFundMe for those who prefer that method.
[ID: Winston the Rottweiler service pup at the vet]
10. Say something kind to a stranger when in public. A simple "you look nice" or "lovely smile" or "I hope you have a good day". It can make a huge difference and only takes a few seconds to do. There is too much cruelty in the world, so it spreads a bit of cheer.
Thank you all for taking the time to read this long list! I will be going through and trying to do what I can with my limited income. May your season and year to follow be wonderful!
Jaimi
PS - this is copied over from the Dreamwidth Holiday Wishlist exchange, I figure it doesn’t hurt for me to post it in both spots.
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We Could Be Heroes
Attending a university on the border between Xadia and Katolis, Callum and Rayla have been secretly together for a year now. Coming clean to their families is one thing. Announcing their relationship to the public is another.
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“You know, if you want to talk to her you have to actually talk to her.” Callum was jolted out of his stupor as Claudia brought him back to reality. “I swear, you haven’t been this bad since before we dated. You’ve been pining after her for a year; maybe it’s time to say something.” Claudia was smirking while sipping her hot brown morning potion; the hustle and bustle of the university cafeteria completely ignored by the pair.
“She’s an elf, Claudia. A Moonshadow elf, at that. You know how they feel about humans.” Callum shifted the eggs on his plate in an efforts to distract himself from Claudia’s prodding.
“Doesn’t change the fact that you like her. And she might like you.”
Callum couldn’t stop the awkward laugh as he began to look everywhere but at his friend. “Don’t say things like that in public. What if someone-”
"What, Callum? Figures out you are crushing on a girl you’ve shared classes with since your first semester? She’s pretty and clever, and, from what Soren says whenever he goes to the gym, really athletic. You’d be stupid not to like her. You’re a prince and on your way to become an archmage. She wouldn’t be getting the short-end of the stick by liking you.”
“She doesn’t like me Claudia. Nothing is going to happen between us.” Claudia sighed before reaching over and patting Callum’s hand. “Why do you want something to happen between?”
Claudia shrugged before turning her neck to look at Rayla. “Because I want you to be happy. You light up when you talk about her and smile more after you work together. She makes you happy, Callum.”
Callum blushed and looked down at his own cup of morning potion. “Don’t tell anyone, Claudia.”
“Soren knows.”
Callum nodded his head from side to side a bit. “Why am I not surprised?”
_____________________
Rayla was doing her best to discreetly look at the two humans a few tables away. Her frequent project partner, Callum, and his friend, Claudia. Rayla and Claudia did not get along at first, mostly due to Claudia using dark magic while Callum had somehow managed to unlock Sky magic. Claudia still didn’t see anything wrong with dark magic and it made Rayla, and every other elf in their vicinity, wary of her. The other reason they didn’t get along? Claudia wouldn’t stop bugging Rayla about Callum.
“You’re looking at that human prince again, Rayla,” Bandlr, a fellow Moonshadow elf hissed. He was just a bit taller than Runaan and covered in toned muscles. The sloping purple marks on his cheeks reminded Rayla of the scythes used during harvest time. He exuded power and arrogance with every little move he made and tended to have either a scowl or a smirk on his face.
“I’m doing no such thing,” she stated absently.
“You better not or your uncle will be pissed.”
“Is that a threat?” Rayla glared over at him and could feel the energy crackling between the two. They lived in the same small town and had known most of the same people since high school. For Rayla, it had been hate at first sight, finding his arrogance and knowledge of her life the biggest turn-off she had ever encountered. He was a thorn in her side that just wouldn’t go away, no thanks to the other Moonshadow elves at the university not wanting to kick one of their own out without ‘proper cause’. For Bandlr, it had been lust at first sight. He spent all his time with Rayla either antagonizing her or trying to charm her. He had once told her that he wouldn’t mind it if she came to him in a fit of rage, just so long as she did.
“Maybe. You know how to shut me up.”
“You’re right. I do.” Rayla leaned in a bit, Bandlr smiling wide as she did. He never saw the punch that went straight to his jaw. “Try to talk with a sore jaw, asshole. Don’t forget, I’m faster than you and I was trained by the best.”
Bandlr glared as he massaged his already bruising jaw. The other elves at the table let the two be, already used to Bandlr’s flirts and Rayla’s violent reaction to them. Sadly for Rayla, it only made him convinced she was a ‘challenge’ for the ‘taking’. “To be fair, Rayla,” interjected a girl with long braids, “you spend a lot of time with this Prince Callum. I don’t think anyone back home would approve. Just because our school is on the border of Katolis and Xadia doesn’t mean you can go fraternizing with humans.”
“Ugh.” Rayla looked up at the ceiling, rolling her eyes. “For the last time, back off. I’m going back to the library.” Rayla grabbed her things, roughly pushed her chair in and stalked off, but not before bumping into Callum and Claudia. “Watch it.” Callum simply nodded as he turned away from her while Claudia raised a brow. “Got something to say?”
“The sexual tension between the two of you is so thick I could cut it with a knife. Just tell him you like him.”
“Mind your own business, Claudia.” Rayla walked as quickly as she could out of the cafeteria and headed towards the apartment complexes off-campus. She continued to look behind her and to the sides as she walked. Rayla eventually stopped in front of a luxurious apartment building and entered the large glass doors. The human doorman smiled and greeted her.
“Another project with Prince Callum, Miss Rayla?”
“You could say that. He texted me that he’s on his way, so I’ll wait for him by his door.”
“Of course, Miss Rayla.”
Up the elevator she went and waited in front of a door on the top floor. It was one of only two, reserved for important dignitaries. ‘Fucking Bandlr. When is he going to get it through his thick skull to leave me alone?’ Rayla’s hand grasped her bag as she bit her lip. ‘They know I’m spending a lot of time with Callum. Who else has noticed?’ She was pulled from her thoughts by a hand softly grasping her’s. “Callum.”
“We going to do that project, Rayla?”
“Yeah, let’s get it over with.” Callum nodded as he unlocked the key to his apartment and let her in first. Rayla was always struck by how minimalist Callum kept the large space. The base of the room was obviously expensive while Callum chose to hang his own art and art that one of his fathers had done. Pictures of his family were dispersed among the opulence of the walls and floors. The furniture was a different story, obviously on the cheaper end, but well taken care of. Callum had felt guilty taking the extravagant room so he had asked for cheaper materials to make his space a home while he was at school. “No one would ever believe me if I told them your apartment was the definition of high-low.” Rayla deposited her bag on the chair closest to the door, grabbing Callum’s bag and doing the same right after.
“You’ve been telling people that you come here?” The slight bit of hope in his voice was clear as day.
“No, of course not. If I did, they might think something was going on between us.” Callum looked down at the floor, that glint of hope suddenly dashed. “They don’t have to know anything is going on.” Rayla didn’t give Callum a chance to nod before she had his face in her hands and her lips against his. Callum wrapped one arm around her waist and made sure his door was locked. Rayla backed him up to his couch and they tumbled down, with her landing between his legs and his other hand landing on her back. “I’ve missed you.”
Callum groaned as she began to nibble at his neck. “It’s only been a week.”
“Uh-huh. A week of not seeing other or texting…or those naughty phone calls you seem so fond of.” Callum gulped. Rayla sat up and began to take off her top. “Pants off. Now.”
“You don’t want me to romance you a bit?” He brushed his hands lightly against her stomach, causing her to quiver above him.
“Later. Now, I just want you.” Callum took off his pants and boxers and laid back. Rayla pulled off her shirt and her own pants and underwear. She quickly climbed on top of him and grasped his length. “I’m gonna go fast and I’m gonna go hard. Alright?” He nodded, reaching to grab her hips. She had a lot of pent up frustration in her and Callum knew by now that it was wisest to let her take the lead. Rayla inserted Callum within her. They groaned together as Rayla grinded on top of him. Quickly picking up pace, she leaned back so her hands were resting on his legs.
Not fully satisfied, Rayla came back up and grabbed Callum by his shirt to pull him up to her. She sealed his lips to hers, grasping his shoulders to give her better leverage. Callum ran circles on her hips with his thumbs. Rayla broke the kiss to nibble at his ear. “Ray…”
“Almost, Callum. Almost.” Rayla had never been shy about what she wanted from him and she wasn’t going to start now. She took one of his hands from her hips to rest right on her clit. “You know what to do.” A sharp nod led to Callum leaning forward and nibbling on her shoulder while circling her. “Ah!”
Callum moved his head to whisper a husky ‘I love you’ in her ear. She quietly repeated it back, locking their lips again. A few thrusts more led Callum and Rayla to completion. He gently laid back, taking her with him. “I missed you, too.”
As they lay on his couch, covered in sweat and panting together, he ran his hand up and down her back. Rayla snuggled her face into his neck, mindful of her horns. “Mhmm, that feels nice.”
“Why did you punch Bandlr today?”
Good mood broken, Rayla broke out into a scowl. “Ugh, the jackass was getting on my nerves. Threatening to tell Runaan about me looking at you.”
“Oh. Would…would that really be such a bad thing?” His hopeful tone had come back full swing and Rayla hated crushing it.
“Callum, we’ve talked about this. Just because the elves and humans are no longer at war doesn’t mean that we’re at peace.”
“I don’t want us to be a secret, Rayla. Not anymore. It was nice, for a while, but I want to be more.”
“What more do you want? We have dinner together, we’re exclusive, I spend the night often enough. What more is there?”
Callum shifted so he could look Rayla in the eyes. “I want you to meet my Dad and Ezran. Well, you’ve met Ezran, but I want you to meet him as my girlfriend. I want to meet Runaan and Tinker and hold your hand on campus and-”
“And what happens if it blows up in our faces?” Rayla closed her eyes to try to keep he anger at bay. This wasn’t the first time they had argued about this and she didn’t want him to know exactly why she didn’t want to tell anyone about their relationship. “You do realize that Runaan could pull me out of school, right? Just because I’m an adult in Katolis doesn’t mean that he isn’t allowed to make those decisions for me in Xadia. The press will hound us both. Why do you want to ruin what we have?” She began to wriggle out of his hold, frustration making her want to move far away from him.
“Why are you scared of what we have?”
“I’m not scared.” Rayla got up, pulled on her underwear and began to move towards the kitchen, Callum following her as he pulled his own boxers up. She went into the cabinet and got a purple glass out as she looked back at him. “I have my own glass here, Callum. I have a whole drawer of my clothes in your apartment. Anyone who looks closely enough at my texts would know that I’ve been deleting more than half of the ones from you. I keep a freaking toothbrush in your bathroom! Do you think I would do any of that, of this, if I was scared?” Her arms were wide and disbelief on her face. Why couldn’t he understand just how big all of that was?
He gave her an incredulous look as the same frustration that had taken over her began to seep into his voice. “Yes, because you and I are the only people that know that any of your stuff is here.”
“I thought you wanted to stay out of the spotlight-”
“Don’t change the subject, Rayla. It has never been about us going public with the world. It’s about telling our families. It’s ALWAYS been about telling our families. Do you think I like telling Ezran that there is nothing between us? I have never had to keep secrets from him before and I don’t like doing it now.” Rayla understood that. Ezran was understanding and had a big heart. She couldn’t imagine anyone felt good after lying to him, least of all Callum.
“And what about your dear Aunt Amaya? Doesn’t she hate elves?”
“She’s marrying a Sunfire elf named Janai. Try again.”
Rayla paused as she looked at him with furrowed brows. “Is she really?”
“It’s all over the news in Katolis. ‘General of the Katolian Army chooses to marry a general of the Sunfire Corps.’”
“I haven’t heard anything about it.” A rough sigh followed by a groan as she got her thoughts back to the topic at hand. “Callum, I want to tell them. I would love to tell Runaan and Tinker about you.”
“Then why can’t we?”
“You don’t see the way the elves look at you. Not just the Moonshadow groups, but all the others. You’re a human prince, even if it is by marriage. King Harrow has not hidden how much he considers you to be his son and you have a target on your back from anyone who doesn’t like him. On top of that, you’re learning primal magic. There are elves that think you’re dangerous because you are the first human ever to learn how to use primal magic without a primal stone. Do you think that you being with an elf is really going to make them think ‘oh, that Prince Callum isn’t such a bad guy? Sure, he’s learning how to use primal magic and is trying to unlock the ability to use all six primal sources, but damn, he’s dating an elf.’”
“So, me wanting to learn magic the right way and rejecting dark magic is the problem?” Callum’s hands were in his hair at this point as Rayla looked ready to throw her glass on the floor. She quickly put it on the counter before she broke it.
“No, Callum. The problem is that you’re human. There are elves all over Xadia that will never accept you, accept us, no matter what you do.”
“Why do you care about them?”
“Because I don’t want to come home to you dead! OK?! I don’t want to walk into your apartment, after we went public or decided it was okay to make-out in the library, just to find your body or to have you end up dead in an alleyway.” All of Rayla’s fears began to pour out of her. She couldn’t stop once she started and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Callum needed to hear why she was fighting him on telling anyone about them. “I was trained in the arts of Moonshadow elf assassins. I know of ways to kill you and make sure that no one will ever find out it was me. And you can bet that I’m not the only one that knows that. Bandlr would be first in line if we went public and if he doesn’t succeed, someone else will. Runaan has a lot of respect among Moonshadow elves, but there are still many more elves and humans who will target you. Your life isn’t worth it, Callum. Us telling our families will only lead to the wrong person finding out.” She was so furious she never saw him walk around the counter to stand in front of her.
Callum grabbed her shoulders and put his forehead against her’s. “Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Of course I have! Just like I have a target on my back, you will have one on your’s. There are people all over the Pentarchy who want elves to stay in Xadia and humans to stay in their kingdoms. There was outrage when Dad announced I was going to school right on the border. When I told a newspaper that I was going to learn primal magic and refuse to learn dark magic, the number of human mages who rioted…I didn’t know there were that many in Katolis alone. And it would probably get much worse if they found out my girlfriend was an elf.”
“Then why is this so important to you?” Callum cupped her face and stroked her cheeks. It was getting harder to look meet his gaze when he looked at her with so much love and adoration.
“Because I love you. And I don’t want to hide it anymore. I know my family will love you and their opinion is the only one that matters to me. Claudia and Soren already keep pushing me to confess to you and Ezran thinks of you as his big sister. I never, ever would have introduced you to Ezran if I wasn’t 100% sure I wanted to be with you. I want to meet Tinker and Runaan and tell them I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. We won’t know unless we try, Rayla. We’ll get through this. Together.”
Rayla sighed as she looked Callum in the eye. The desperation in those green eyes of his let her know that he was serious about this. “If we try, and I mean if, you’re going to have to learn a lot more about Moonshadow elf culture. History class is one thing, but you can really, really piss Runaan off if you do the wrong thing.”
“Like what?” Callum moved his hands up to lightly run his fingertips over the base of one of her horns, sending shivers down her spine as a gasp left her lips. The burn in her belly she had just worked off was back full-force.
“Like that. In any elf culture, you might as well have grabbed my ass while your tongue was down my throat.”
“Noted. Horns are only for behind closed doors. Anything else?”
“Stop stroking my horn and maybe I’ll be able think.”
Callum released her with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I guess I can keep my hands off you for a few minutes.”
Rayla snorted as she lightly nudged him backwards. “We tend to spend a lot of time outdoors. Training is outside, lots of festivals and camping trips. It’s not unusual for families to spend nights when the moon is full in their yards. Weddings are outside, too, as are major parties, like birthdays, graduations, and anniversaries,” Rayla counted on her fingers. “Weddings tend to be the night before the full moon and the actual honeymoon starts on the night of the full moon. Something about the moon granting love and fertility and fidelity. When it rains, we go places that have large windows so we can still see the moon at night. Think you can handle all that time outside?”
“I’m sure I’ll make it work. I’ve had to rough it once or twice.”
“If by ‘rough it’ you mean spending time in the Banther Lodge, you are in for a rude awakening.”
#rayllum#rayllum fanfic#the dragon prince#tdp#rayla#prince callum#this first chapter does contain adult material#we could be heroes#moonbase fanfics
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Gander through Greece
On October 22, we flew from Rome to Athens. Knowing that Greece was nearing the end of its warm season, we only stayed in Athens for 2 nights before heading to Thira (Santorini). Our days in Athens were spent close to the hostel. I was feeling a bit of a stomach bug, so I needed to lay low. However, we were thrilled to discover some delicious food for cheaper prices than we’d seen in months! Greece is known for its gyros – wraps comparable to kebabs with generally either chicken, pork, or lamb, along with onions, tomatoes, tzatziki sauce, lettuce, and fries (inside). We were just grateful to have meat options that we could afford that weren’t just smoked ham, prosciutto ham, fake deli meat ham, or slightly-more-expensive-but-probably-actually-has-meat-in-it-ham. We also discovered feta cheese and HOLY. I didn’t think feta cheese could get better than ours at home, but I assure you it can. [In case you’re confused, my stomach bug didn’t eliminate my appetite].
The morning of the 24th, we woke bright and early (4:30 a.m.) to catch our ferry. Our receptionist had recommended that we show up two hours early, so although our ferry didn’t leave until 7:30, we caught a cab down to the harbor at 5. We were then confused because no one knew where our boat was supposed to dock. Our taxi driver was immensely helpful (another one of the Lord’s saving gifts) and helped us until we figured it out. Apparently, it is ridiculous to show up to a ferry 2 hours early. So, although we kept showing ticket offices the name of our boat, nothing made sense until we finally showed them the time when we would be leaving. They weren’t even considering boats that were arriving that far in the future. Our taxi driver thought we were crazy. With everything sorted, we sat at our gate for 45 min, while Lynece gloated (she’s the “no need to be too early, everything will work out” type), Kiana sat, resolutely unfazed (she’s the “better to be early cause what if [insert literally any possible obstacle that could arise here]” type), and I sat between them, admiring the boats and early morning breeze (I’m the “sure, ok” type). We all had a good laugh, and did get some pretty sweet seats on the ferry (which we later learned were reserved for people who paid more, but regardless). The ride was 7 hours long. We experienced the most amazing sunrise, the kind that can only be witnessed from aboard a boat, and spent the rest of the time chatting. You’d think that we’d eventually run out of things to talk about, but, although we do have our moments of silence, we always have more to say.
Now, to talk about Santorini. In the last post, Lynece told you about Venice being her “must-see” destination. Santorini was mine. In fifth grade English class, I had to do a project, which focused on traveling to another country. I remember basically nothing about the project itself, but I know I did mine on Santorini. I priced out flights and accommodations (pretty sweet deal when you’re 11 and have all the money in the world). I recall choosing a private home in Oia, with a pool that overlooked the stunning view of pearly-white-walled and sky-blue-domed houses, as well as the surrounding islands and endless ocean. From then on, I was GOING to Santorini (“like, when I’m old enough, like probably when I’m 16, or something”). My resolve was further strengthened by the likes of Mama Mia and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I, too, put it on my list of 10 places that I wanted to see for my 13th birthday trip, and even cajoled Aasta into putting it on hers. And yet, somehow, even with turning 16 and everything, the plan had yet to materialize. Until now.
Since 5th grade, I’ve learned that apparently (and disappointingly) I’m not alone in wanting to go to Santorini. It’s chocked full of tourists who were as convinced as I by Meryl Streep and Abba. So, my expectations were sufficiently checked. Still, the 11 year old inside me couldn’t help but jump with glee as we neared the white-topped cliffs. We didn’t stay in a private home with a pool and a view (although, my fifth grade research was pretty accurate - there are plenty of these homes available). But, our hostel in Fira was clean, had plenty of people to meet, and did have a pool (minus the view). On our first morning, after picking up some groceries and Freddo Cappuccinos (iced espresso, with some kind of special sweetener, topped with just-under-whipped, whipped cream), we sat looking out over all of the magnificent view, feet dangling over the wall, and I couldn’t help but be filled with overwhelmingly joyous tears. It was all too cool.
We spent 5 lovely days in Santorini. The first was spent exploring the climbing streets of Fira. The second was spent in Oia (we went to Oia!), where we explored some more, found the classic windmills as well as an an epic bookstore (that I’d still be in now if it weren’t for Kiana and Lynece’s prompting), and discovered the unpredictable nature of the local bus system (I say local because that’s what it is called, but it is used much more by tourists than locals, from what I could tell). The bus is supposed to come every 20 minutes; however, the bus that brought us back from Oia to Fira was 45 min late. A new understanding of “island time.” The third day was a life maintenance day, where we caught up on journals, did laundry, etc. On the fourth day (I’m beginning to remind myself of Genesis, here), we went to the heavenly “Red Beach,” named after the red sand. It was a cove perfect for swimming, with the kind of water you see on people’s screen savers. We swam and soaked up the rays aaand.. I forgot to drink enough water. Which brings me to the fifth day, where I had a touch of heat stroke, so we lounged around the pool of our hostel all day before catching our ferry back to Athens in the evening. While here, we caught the famed sunsets almost every night (there aren’t enough words), and were blessed with absolutely perfect weather. Also, being at the end of the season, there were sales everywhere and we were each able to pick out a ring we liked.
There is something truly magical about Santorini. It is undeniably westernized. It’s busy. But there’s just a feeling about it that leaves you wanting more. It has an almost Arabic feel to it (I say this with admittedly zero grounding, as I’ve never been to an Arabic country). It feels island-y and luxurious but also feels like real things have happened here. It makes me curious to explore other Greek islands to see what even more spectacular gems might be waiting outside of all the vacationers’ sights. But I would be more than thrilled to spend a season just here, working at one of the shops (preferably the book store mentioned above). Many of the people that we met who were working at the shops were from elsewhere in Europe; they all go home for the down season. So I know it is frequently done! Maybe when I’m finished my degree..
Anyway. We loved Santorini. And I will be back.
As I started saying, on the evening of the 29th, we caught a ferry ride back to Athens. A 12 hour, overnight ferry this time. There were no cabins (and we wouldn’t have been able to afford them even if there had been) but, luckily, the boat was not too busy and there were plenty of open sofas to lie down on. Even better, the ride was incredibly smooth, especially compared to the rather choppy waters on the way there. It was a surprisingly incredible sleep!
We arrived in Athens at around 9:00 a.m. We stayed at the same hostel as before – it was particularly lovely because there were curtains around the bunks which gave us a little bit of privacy. You come to really appreciate these kinds of things! The heat stroke had thrown me off; I lost my appetite towards anything Greek food and was just not feeling myself. So, we spent the 30th and 31st laying low, once again. Truthfully, we were glad to have an excuse to take a break from any kind of sightseeing. Europe was tremendous, but we were exhausted, especially after Rome. Rome really took it all out of us. So those two days of rainy weather and bed/café chilling were necessary for us.
We ventured out a bit more on the 1st. We went and explored the area around the Acropolis, called the Plaka. I was feeling particularly moody and, frankly, angry with still being in Europe, still having to eat this stupid food and sleep in these stupid foreign beds. All I wanted was Mum’s chicken and dumplings, or noodle soup, or Dad’s buttermilk pancakes. It’s funny, writing this and noticing how drastically my attitude towards Greek food changed. Don’t let this deter you; the food is GOOD. This was just the post-heat stroke talking. Anyway, the good news was that our little bit of exploring helped to brighten all of our spirits. We didn’t overdo it - soon returning to the hostel to begin to prepare for our flight to Asia – but it was enough to move through some of the blues.
The next day was Acropolis day. The Acropolis did not get the astonishment it probably deserves. As I’ve mentioned, we were tired. And there comes a time when another set of ruins is kind of just another set of ruins. We put in our best effort, reading lots of the placards for more info and taking time to admire the sights. It really was cool. My favourite part of any ruins is when they still have old engravings on them, and some of these did. On the South slope, there is an ancient stadium/theatre that spans a large portion of the hill. In this stadium there are still the seats that were reserved for the priests/priestesses and on the front of many of the seats there is still the engravings dictating which priest got to sit where: “The priest of Zeus” and so on. We couldn’t actually read the letters, of course, but we overheard a nearby tour guide telling her group about it.
As for the Acropolis itself, I’ll need to return to appreciate it fully. It was remarkable to think of all the history that occurred there (in other circumstances, it would’ve likely been mind-blowing). My highlight of the day was seeing the Areopagus (Mars hill). It is quite the experience to know that you are standing in the place where Apostle Paul preached the gospel to the Greek philosophers. To think: in this spot, Christianity was introduced for one of the first times to this land. Woah. It’s really just a craggy rock on the top of a hill, but it was more impactful to us than any of the pillars in the Acropolis.
Acropolis day was also wonderful because I had my appetite back. To celebrate, we went to one of the most famous Greek restaurant chains, called O Thanasis. O Thanasis is known for its yogurtlu: souvlaki meat, covered in warm Greek yogurt and various spices, and served on a bed of pita bread. GUYS. This food is SO GOOD. Ah. We shared a yogurtlu and a Thanasis souvlaki kebab (basically the same thing, but just onions and tomato instead of yogurt), and were filled and happy, happy, happy. What’s more, it only set us back 19 euro in total. For dessert, we went to Lukumades to try Greek doughnut balls, called loukoumades. Traditionally, they are served with honey and cinnamon. So, we shared one order of traditional ones (with a side of ice cream, of course) and one order with Bueno chocolate drizzle on top. Enough said.
With the 2nd at a close, we only had two remaining days in Greece (and in Europe!) and we had plenty to do. You see, paying to check bags would’ve cost a ridiculous amount of money. So, we embarked on the task of trying to carry everything on. This meant that a) we needed to make our packs look small enough to carry on (the easy part) and b) we needed to ensure that each of us only had 10kilos of weight (the slightly harder part). This task was made easier by the fact that we knew we were entering hot country, so we left pants, sweaters, and other unnecessary layers at the hostel, for other travelers to look through. There were some things that we didn’t want to part with, so we also sent a package home. However, even after all of this, we were still over our weight. We began seeing how much we could fit into our pockets. Turns out, the inner pockets of my sweater can fit our iPad on one side and a novel on the other. I look like a walking brick, but oh well. We debated significantly about how much we could carry in our arms without looking suspicious. Finally, we caved a little for the sake of comfort and bought an extra 5 kilos of carry-on weight. This meant that with just the right number of layers, and with our pockets as full as reasonably possible, we could probably squeeze by.
And so, the morning of the 5th came. We donned our layers and took the hour-long metro ride to the airport. And what were we wearing? Well let’s see. Kiana: 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long sleeve shirt; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; and sandals. Lynece: 1 pair of shorts; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of thick wool skiing socks; and sandals. And me? 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; 2 bandanas (one on each wrist) and sandals. And what did we have in our pockets? Kiana: pillowcase, 2 bandanas, phone, charging cords, and glasses case. Me: charging battery, charging cords, sunglasses case, phone, a deck of cards, and my camera. Lynece: phone, charging cords, camera, and 4 adaptors. To top it all off, we each have a multi-colored sheet (Kiana, Lynece, and Dad brought them home from the Philippines) that is sewn like a sleeping bag (except open on both ends). Naturally, we wore them around our necks like face-eating, overgrown scarfs. Needless to say, the metro ride was a little warm.
Just imagine 3 huffing girls walking down the airport hallway (in Athens, a warm country, mind you), topped with massive scarfs, each wearing two backpacks, weighed down by their sagging pockets, wearing socks in their sandals. That was us. We decided that if anyone asked we’d just say we’d come from Canada. We acted as normal as we could, standing in line at the check-in counter, and comparing the size of our packs to the size of everyone else’s. Our anticipation rose as we stepped up to the counter. The man gave us one look, asked for our Passports, printed our passes, nodded, and sent us on our way. HE DIDN’T EVEN WEIGH OUR PACKS. We stood outside of line, stunned, for a minute. The email had been explicit in warning that “each person is only permitted 2 bags with a combined total weight of 10 kilos.” We thought there must be some mistake. Maybe they weigh them later. So, we refrained from removing any layers or putting anything more into our packs. We cleared security (that was a sight, as we emptied the electronics from our pockets). Still no weighing. We found our gate, thinking: “Is it possible that they’d weigh them at the gate? That makes no sense!” Still, we stayed in our layers, pockets full. And so, we boarded the plane with our 16 layers. No weighing necessary. It was all somewhat anti-climactic and highly hilarious. At least we wouldn’t be cold on the flight.
Our plane took off at 11:00 a.m. It was a 10 hour flight, followed by a 3 hour layover in Singapore, and then a 2 hour flight to Denpasar, Indonesia. We said goodbye to Europe, part 1 of our trip. Wild. We’d dreamed of our sister trip to Europe for so many years and it has now come to a close. We were sad to see the end, but also so excited for Asia. We were really too tired to continue in Europe; Indonesia couldn’t have come at a better time.
Cheers // Janae
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The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 3
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy
Rating: Teen
Summary: Bruce does his usual tightrope walk between his dual lives. He flirts with Selina at a charity ball, then goes to search for Catwoman.
The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 3
Bruce straightened the sleeves of his jacket and smoothed his hair back as he crossed the top floor of Wayne Industries with long strides. It was 8:06 a.m. according to the clock on the wall above a sea of cubicles. He smiled at various clerks that looked up as he sailed by. One man, however, stood at the back wall coffee bar with a frown on his face.
“Late again, Bruce. The Board has been waiting for…” he glanced at the clock, “...seven minutes. Can’t you save your escapades for the weekend? You’ve still got lipstick on your collar.” The frown deepened, stopping just short of a grimace.
Bruce silently blessed Alfred for remembering the little details.
“Oops, good thing I’ve got a fresh shirt in my office. Tell the Board they need to wait three minutes more?” he asked, faking a sheepish look.
The man sighed gustily as he stirred his coffee and shook his head.
Bruce put on the boyish grin that had launched a thousand fansites. “Aw, cut me a little slack, Philmore? It’s only ten minutes of their time. And besides, it was all for charity.”
Philmore grumbled as he stalked away toward the board room. Bruce chuckled. He entered his office, waving at his secretary before closeting himself behind a heavily ornate wooden door. He nabbed a fresh shirt off of a rack in one corner of the enormous space and quickly switched out. A polite knock sounded as he resecured his power tie in front of a mirror on the back of the door.
“Enter!” he called, stepping back.
Debra, his secretary, sashayed in holding a clipboard. She clicked her tongue at him. “You sure put Phil in a tizzy this morning. Have mercy on the poor man,” she admonished. “Here’s your schedule and the materials for the meeting. This one’s gonna be a bloodbath, sorry to say. You shouldn’t have kept them waiting.”
“I can handle the board, Debra. What’s on my schedule for tonight?” Bruce asked.
His mind raced ahead to the hours after sunset. He wondered where he should start the search for Catwoman.
“Charity ball for a cat conservation group,” Debra reported, cutting into his thoughts.
Bruce groaned. “Can I cancel?”
“I suppose. Selina Kyle’s on the board—”
“Selina will be there?” Bruce’s ears perked up as he finished tucking in his shirt and took the clipboard from Debra.
Debra didn’t meet his eyes, but a knowing smile brought out her dimple. Bruce realized she’d mentioned that fact on purpose. He sighed, but with good humor.
“I’ll go. It’s fine. Can you call Alfred—”
“And make sure your tux is ready? Already done. What would you do without me, Mr. Wayne?” Debra chuckled at his expression.
“Suffer. Greatly.”
Bruce flashed Debra one last winning smile and stepped jauntily to the board room, armed with the materials she’d prepared.
Later that day, Bruce was alone in his office, the door partially shut against the bustle of the top floor. His lunch—a high quality sushi tray prepared by his favorite chef—sat untouched as he stared off into space. The board meeting had been… not good. Several of their products were in a sales slump no one could explain, and one particular land development project had everyone out of sorts. He wanted to be excited about the prospect of seeing Selina later, but work had him in a serious funk.
A surreptitious tap on the doorjamb pulled Bruce from his thoughts. He looked up to see Chuck Howson, his number one accountant, peep around the door.
“Hey, Mr. Wayne, is this a good time?” Howson’s round face was more serious than usual as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
“It’s fine,” Bruce replied, waving him in.
“So, I tracked down those figures you wanted,” Howson began.
He placed a manila file folder on the edge of Bruce’s desk, carefully avoiding the sushi as he flipped it open. Bruce could feel his eyes glaze over when he saw the colored pie charts and various graphs of Howson’s collected printouts.
“Let’s cut to the chase. Howson, what kind of money are we talking here?” Bruce put his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin.
Howson pushed his glasses up with one long finger. “Well, Mr. Wayne, the cost of re-zoning, all the permits—and frankly, the bribes to various Gotham City officials...it’s in the neighborhood of—”
The figure he named set Bruce’s ears back. No wonder the board had been calling him all week. Even the deep pockets of Wayne Industries couldn’t handle the cost of the multi-use development he’d dreamed up. He’d envisioned it with Wayne employees in mind, but that small detail didn’t matter. For the amount Howson calculated, it would be cheaper to put his employees up in nice hotels for a couple of years.
Bruce sighed, irritated. “This is my land, isn’t it? How can they charge me so much to develop my own land?”
Howson shrugged. “Realities of living in a big city, Sir. Take it up with City Council.”
“Don’t tempt me. That’ll be all, Howson. Thanks.” Bruce stood and shook out his broad shoulders.
Howson gave a mock salute, turned on a heel, and exited the lavish office. The door closed softly behind him. Bruce rubbed his eyes and sighed again. After a frustrated circuit of the room and a few minutes spent staring out the window, he returned to work. He reviewed reports for a few more hours, annotating them or calling Debra on the comm to ask for follow-ups on one thing or another. Finally, the grandfather clock against the wall chimed five. Bruce stood and pulled on his suit jacket, eager to get out of Wayne Industries for the day.
He’d have to pull a Cinderella at the charity ball this evening. As much fun as one more overcrowded, champagne-soaked benefit would be, Batman had to find Catwoman before Commissioner Gordon set his sights on her.
It had been quite a while since he’d had a good excuse to see Selina, though. They knew each other well enough that he could call her up for coffee or brunch, but something about her always made him hesitate. The cover of another philanthropic event felt… required.
It was probably the intensity of purpose that radiated off of Selina. Her intensity honed down to a sharp, tiny, tolerant smile whenever she encountered Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s playboy. Come to think of it, Catwoman had a similar intense energy the few times he had encountered her. Bruce could imagine Selina’s laugh at being compared to the famous cat burglar. She’d probably love it. She wasn’t the type to be scandalized.
The ball started at eight o’clock. Alfred had him dressed and coiffed with thirty minutes to spare. Bruce set out from Wayne Manor in an appropriately sleek sports car, knowing Alfred would meet him with the Batmobile at midnight in one of their hidden places around town. He took his time on the winding roads leading back into the city, then roared up to the valet parking in front of the Natural History Museum exactly fifteen minutes after eight o’clock. Sometimes he did an even better job of pretending to be irresponsible and late, but tonight he figured ‘nearly on time’ served just as well.
Bruce tossed his keys to the valet, flicked imaginary dust off of the shoulder of his tux, and headed in. He handed a pre-filled and signed check to a well-dressed lady at a table covered in red velvet. When he smiled, she blushed to match the tablecloth and gave him his proof of plate purchase—a little gold cheetah lapel pin. He placed it carefully and set the backing. It wouldn’t do to break a thread on this tux; Alfred would murder him in his sleep.
He had another check already prepared for his actual donation to the cause. It was a number he hoped would make that tiny smile of Selina’s broaden into something authentic.
Warm light, the melodic strains of a string quartet, and the unmistakable musty smell of fossilized dinosaurs swept over Bruce as he entered the main hall of Gotham’s Natural History Museum. He took a proffered glass of champagne and pretended to sip it, one hand in his pocket as he casually walked the perimeter of the gathering. A banner emblazoned with “Gotham Cat and Habitat Conservation Society Annual Charity Ball” stretched across a raised dais toward the back of the large space. A generous dance floor had been put down in the center.
Curiously, several tableaus of taxidermied big cats from different sections of the museum had been brought in, but the glass enclosures were spattered with red paint. It looked as though blood striped the exteriors of scenes of lions taking down zebras, pumas feasting on deer, and other cats made to look fierce in their natural environments.
Bruce came close to the dais and saw the table for the board of directors, placards for the officers at each of their seats. Selina Kyle was behind the table, rifling through her clutch for something.
Bruce stood at the foot of the dais, champagne in hand. He looked up at the graceful woman with a smile on his lips. She’d cut her dark hair stylishly short. In combination with her strapless evening gown, it made her pale neck look beautifully slender. She snapped her clutch shut and straightened up. He caught her eye then, and she narrowed her gaze in admonishment.
“Staring is rude, Bruce,” Selina called out to him across the table.
He only grinned, not taking his eyes away for a moment. She shook her head, exasperated, and came around to the edge of the dais. He met her at the steps and handed her down, her other gloved hand gently lifting her dress away from her heels as she descended.
“I knew you were a cat fancier, Selina, but I had no idea you were involved in rescue and conservation as well,” Bruce rumbled, tugging her fingers forward and dropping a light kiss on them as soon as she was steady on her feet.
Selina offered a tight, insincere smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Bruce. Neglect and abuse of felines is a major problem—both in Gotham and abroad. This charity aims to assist both locally and globally.”
She took her hand back, subconsciously rubbing the glove where he’d kissed her. Bruce glanced around at the unusual decor and indicated one of the exhibits with a sweep of his hand.
“Is that why you held the ball here at the Natural History Museum? So you could use the exhibits as examples?”
“Exactly right,” Selina agreed. “Most of these animals were killed and taxidermied over eighty years ago, when there were no laws and no concept of protection for predators. The museum has no moral obligation to remove them, but they did agree to let us gussy them up to make our point.”
“The red certainly does that—startling and stark,” Bruce mused.
“Good. I hope it shocks a few of these socialites into a conscience,” Selina replied harshly.
She caught herself and sighed, smoothing her face into a more agreeable expression.
“Sorry, Bruce. Sometimes I look at the wealth floating around this city… and it breaks my heart for the less fortunate.”
“I understand completely,” Bruce agreed, his deep voice barely above a whisper.
Selina stifled a shiver. She broke eye contact with him and glanced around the bustling room. Bruce lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to her, noticing how she rubbed her arms.
“Are you cold? Here, take my jacket,” he offered, but she shook her head.
“I’m fine,” Selina insisted. “In fact, I should probably—”
“Hold that thought,” Bruce cut in as the quartet shifted into a jazz standard with a good beat. “Let’s dance, Selina.”
Overwhelming her protests with carefully cultivated charm, he enjoyed one dance with Selina Kyle, then released her to her duties. He made sure to pass in front of at least one reputable photographer while they were on the floor. It served Wayne Industries for him to be active on the charity circuit and the publicity served Selina, too. Her ambition was well known. Having some innocent fun was good for her image.
At dinner, Bruce found himself among a few older members of Gotham’s elite. He didn’t mind at all. He usually attracted crowds of vapid young women, but there were fewer than usual at this event. He shrugged to himself; perhaps they were mostly dog people. He seated himself next to a couple that had been friends of his parents, and spent the meal catching up with them and looking at photos of their grandchildren. He resisted the frequent urge to check his watch. They listened to various speakers, including Selina, that made impassioned pleas for funds to help the small cats of Gotham and the big cats of the world. When the hat was passed to accept donations, he dropped in his check.
Midnight came sooner than he expected, despite his impatience. He feigned tiredness and accompanied his parents’ friends out, making sure to exchange one last pleasantry with Selina before he left.
Once he was in his vehicle, Bruce touched base with Alfred. He was already waiting in a warehouse Bruce owned down by the river. Somehow, the streetlights in that part of town were always burning out and it was singularly difficult to get a good view of passing cars.
Bruce allowed himself a private moment of thought as he drove to the rendezvous point. There’d been an unusual sparkle in Selina’s eyes that night, the kind of look Bruce associated with hang gliding or watching your team win the Superbowl. He wondered what fueled her exhilaration. She had flirted with him during their single dance, her lithe figure indicating physical attraction even as her clever tongue said no in twenty different ways.
He’d happily take a lashing like that every day of the week if it meant he could see her more often. She only knew him as the playboy, however. He projected charm, irreverence, immaturity. Bruce knew it would never win over someone as driven as Selina. She was looking for an equal, a partner. As the Batman, he could never risk getting in so deep.
He pulled into a broad alley beside his building and depressed a button on the dash. A sturdy, well-oiled garage door raised up with hardly a sound. Bruce nosed the sports car inside and cut the engine. The garage door lowered behind him.
“Did you have a good time?” asked Alfred as Bruce tossed him the keys.
“I ran into the McAllisters. It was nice,” Bruce replied.
He carefully removed his tux jacket and handed it to Alfred, who draped it over one arm. Next came the slacks. Alfred had them both on a hanger before Bruce could blink. He placed his bow tie in Alfred’s waiting palm and added the cufflinks. The familiarity of years meant that no words needed to be exchanged.
When Bruce slipped his dress shirt off over his shoulders and reached for the hanger Alfred held, the older man slapped his hand.
“You'd best be about your business, Sir,” he reproved, taking the dress shirt away.
“And leave you to yours, I see,” Bruce chuckled.
He turned to the other vehicle in the warehouse.
“Batmobile, open,” he commanded.
The smooth, tinted hatch slid back and he leapt over the side into the driver’s seat. A push of a button set the seat to recline. As soon as he was horizontal, the Batmobile fitted him with his batsuit, hidden in the bowels of the vehicle. The engine roared to life as the seat brought him back up. Batman nodded once to Alfred and spun off into the night.
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She’s From Boston part 8
Steve McGarrett x ofc
Word count : 1616
Warnings: None
A/N: I have and will be taking some creative liberties as to Sophie’s schooling. Kind of combining a few different ways schools run and such. Shhhh. Just let it happen. XD Once again, thanks to my lovely beta @fandomoniumflurry If you want to catch up on the series, here is where you can find the other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Feedback is lovely and fuels my muse’s fire. If you enjoy my work and would like to buy me a coffee, you can do so here. You can find all my works here.
H50 taggers:
@fandomoniumflurry
@hawaiianohana15
Steve had taken Sophie to the Culinary Institute of the Pacific admissions office less than an hour after she’d disclosed more of her past to him and had waited there while she filled out her application. There was a fee, of course, and of course the commander paid for it, much to Sophie’s dismay. She appreciated his help, but she didn’t want him paying her way all the time. “Consider it an investment in the future.” he said, echoing Michael’s words before she’d left Massachusetts. “You learn to cook even better than you already do, I get to reap the rewards of being your guinea pig. It’s a win-win situation.” Steve stated with a bright smile. Sophie couldn’t argue with him, especially when he flashed that mesmerizing grin at her.
She was anxious and on edge every time she checked the mail for the next week and a half. The admissions process was stressful with all the waiting. This was the only school she’d applied to so far and if she got in, she could start within a month. She busied herself with cleaning up the house. Laundry was done, floors swept and mopped, windows washed, on just the first day. Steve came home that night and chuckled as he looked around. “The place hasn’t been this clean in years. You know, you don’t have to do everything in one day.” He gave her a smile and a gentle hug. “It looks really good but seriously. Don’t wear yourself out. You’ve done a lot today. Junior should be here soon. Let’s all go grab dinner somewhere.”
That night was her first time at the restaurant of the Hilton Hawaiian Village. She’d stayed there two weeks when she first arrived, but never dined in their restaurant, always choosing cheaper food from a small grocery store a few streets over. The place was fantastic! The entertainment was amazing and of course, the company was great. She found herself examining the food when it was brought to them, noticing how it was presented and other such things she was sure to learn when she got into cooking school. It wouldn’t hurt to take some notes beforehand.
The dinner was great and by the time the trio arrived back home, Sophie was more than ready to fall into bed. The next few days she busied herself with some light cleaning and some reading. On the third afternoon, she decided to go online to see if there was a craft store nearby. To her happiness, there was! And, she discovered, it was on the bus line. She took what little money she had left and made her way to the shop.
She hadn’t been in a craft store in many years. Brian had never allowed her to do much that she sought pleasure in. Crocheting certainly was off the list. But as she looked around at the rows and rows of different yarns on the shelves, her eyes glistened with tears. She remembered sitting on Nana and Papa’s front porch trying to learn how to begin a project. It took her a few times, but Nana had been very patient with her and exclaimed with joy when she finally got it right.
The blanket that she’d abandoned after her parents were killed still sat unfinished in a box in Michael and Lydia’s garage. Maybe one day she would finish it. But now, she wanted to begin something new. She picked out several skeins of yarn, the colors of camouflage, and found a few hooks that were the sizes she would need. Once the items were purchased, she made her way back to the house and begun what would be a gift for Steve.
Over the next several days, after her housework duties were finished, she worked on the commander’s present. It got a little frustrating on a few parts, but she was able to figure it out and things were coming along quite nicely now. It was almost finished. On day nine, Steve had come in with a few pieces of mail. “Is there a Miss Sophie Russo in the house?” he’d called out, a bright smile on his face. “I have what could be a very important letter for her.”
Sophie rushed out from the kitchen where she was fixing herself a light snack and snatched the envelope from him. She tore it open and her eyes began welling up with tears as she read. She had to read it over a few times before the message sank in. “I got in.” she stated flatly. “They…...I GOT IN!” Her face broke into a huge smile and she flung her arms around around Steve’s neck. “Thank you, Steve!” She showed him the letter, the smile never leaving her face. He, too, was all smiles as he read the letter and congratulated her. “This calls for a celebration! I need to make some calls.”
He went upstairs to shower and make his calls as she sat looking over the materials the package contained. She’d have to get some supplies and books, but that could wait til tomorrow at least. Tonight, she would bask in this victory to reclaiming herself in full. When Steve came back down, he informed her that they were going out for dinner with the ohana. Jerry, Kamekona, Flippa, Lou, Adam, Tani, Danny and Junior would be joining them to celebrate Sophie’s big day.
She once again took some note of how the food was presented but didn’t allow herself to think too much on this. Instead, she got caught up in the atmosphere of the night. Their party was a little boisterous, but everyone was in good spirits and she laughed more than she had for a very long time. That was, until the waitress kept trying to make passes at Steve. Sophie scowled slightly at this, but didn’t say anything. Steve was free to talk to or date whoever he wanted to. One of the times, she noticed Adam looking at her during a scowl and he raised a brow. She quickly looked away and was very interested in the conversation Jerry was having with Lou.
Several times this waitress came back and tried to capture Steve’s attention and it annoyed Sophie. Still, she kept quiet about it. She didn’t understand why she was feeling so annoyed by this. Steve was her friend, her roommate, her employer even. Why was this stupid waitress getting on her nerves so much? Steve hadn’t responded to her advances, Sophie was glad to see, but that didn’t stop the wench from trying. Maybe she’s just trying a little too hard to get a good tip Sophie thought, and put the girl out of her mind to enjoy the rest of the evening.
Much food and many drinks later, the group dispersed to go home. Steve, only having had a couple beers, drove Tani and Danny home, then returned for Sophie and Junior. Once they arrived back home, Sophie sleepily wished the two men a good night and trudged up to her room. She’d intended to work more on Steve’s blanket, but instead she fell on her bed and went right to sleep.
The next morning when she woke, the house was empty. There was a note from Steve on the fridge telling her that they’d had to get to the office early today. She went about making herself some breakfast then did the dishes before putting a load of laundry in the machine. While the clothes were washing, she sat down and worked on the blanket. With any luck, she’d have it finished by this afternoon. The sun was bright and just as she decided she wanted to go sit in the back yard and read for a bit, there was a knock on the door.
She opened the door and was surprised when a delivery man from a florists’ shop stood there. “Sophie Russo?” he asked and she nodded. He smiled and pushed a beautiful arrangement of flowers toward her. “If you could sign right here……” She signed his paper and thanked him, then took the vase inside. There was a card in the middle that said simply “To Sophie. From your secret admirer.”
Her brows narrowed as she thought about who these could be from. She didn’t know many people here yet and most of those she did were already taken. None of them had shown any interest in her in that manner. She allowed herself a smile when she wondered if they were from Steve. This would be something he would do just to brighten her day, but it was still early and he was at work. He wouldn’t have had time to call for the delivery. Then panic set in when she thought about someone else they could be from. Had Brian found her? Did he know where she was staying? Suddenly, she didn’t want to be home alone anymore.
She was startled by the buzzing of the washer indicating that the load was finished. She quickly shoved the clothes in the dryer, turned it on and made her way outside and across the street to Miss Kala’s home. She knocked on the door and was glad when the woman answered. Sophie asked for a ride into town and Kala grabbed her keys and the pair was off. Sophie tried to keep her panic to a minimum and not let anyone know she was upset. When she got to the office, she greeted Jerry with a smile. “Hey, Jerry. Mind if I hang out a little while? It was kind of boring sitting at the house by myself.” was all that was offered as an explanation.
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