weird.

“She was ours, she did her best, she stayed as long as she could.”

They were somewhere in Italy. Somewhere beautiful, because Nicky always picked the best places. It had been six months since Nile joined them, since they left Booker, since Andy lost her immortality, and since Nicky and Joe started feeling more preoccupied than they’ve felt in centuries.

Then the fateful day arrived.

or, Andromache and Quynh are reunited, and it could have gone worse. X

Booker knows there’s someone in his apartment the second he opens the door. There are no obvious signs, no evidence to point to someone having broken in despite the fact that Booker had the only key, but Booker knew. He knew it in his gut, in the way his skin hummed at the other man’s presence. You couldn’t spend hundreds of years in someone’s pocket without gaining some intrinsic awareness of them. So Booker knew there was someone there and he knew who it was before he even got the door closed.

He dropped his keys on the table and put his bags down, kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat and scarf. When he got to the kitchen the other man was exactly where he expected him to be, in the most comfortable chair, drinking Booker’s very expensive coffee.

“Joe,” Booker greeted.

“Booker.”

It had been ten years since they last saw each other, ten years since the situation with Quynh was resolved, ten years since Joe looked him in the eye and said, “Ninety-nine more.”

“You’re early.” Booker fussed with the coffee maker as he made himself a cup. If he was staring at the coffee maker he didn’t have to look at Joe.

“So I am,” Joe remarked idly. He sounded like a stranger. Booker had had decades to familiarize himself with Joe’s behavior and he thought he’d known him as well as anyone other than Nicky could know the man but the person sitting at his table was an unknown.

He asked us one hot summer day how to measure an evil. How do you measure the Holocaust? the genocide of the Native Americans? American slavery? a massacre? We, a bunch of kids whose brains hadn’t finished growing in yet, were mildly stumped. It wasn’t the number of the dead, we were told. Instead, we were told to imagine the following:

You’re standing on a street corner. There is a line of people in front of you. One by one, they introduce themselves to you. One by one, you learn names and what they did, maybe a hobby, maybe how many siblings or kids or nephews they had. One by one, you heard about talents or hobbies, what they did on their last holiday. One by one, you meet those who were lost.

This is how you measure an evil, my professor taught us. You measure not the number, but the individuals lost. Not just the names, but who they were, their connections to others. What is lost is an irreplaceable human being. The evil is measured not in the number, but in the who was lost. All of those whos matter. Every life listed above and listed on other pages mattered. Losing them hurts all of us. We lost nearly 100,000 irreplaceable human beings. This did not have to happen. That is the measure of the evil of “it’ll all just go away”.

May their memories be a blessing to those who knew them and mourn them. May they Rest In Peace. May we never forget they were living, breathing human beings whose lives were important and mattered. May we never allow negligence, nepotism, greed, racism, ageism, ableism, and incompetence to do this to us again.

A Glasgow nightclub has installed a two-way mirror which allows male revellers in private booths to spy on unsuspecting women as they visit the toilet! With no notification or signage anywhere in the venue many female club goers have been left feeling embarrassed and used. Although they do briefly show the mirrors in a promo video, the club has been quickly deleting comments and posts on their social media from club goers trying to alert others to the situation. This is pretty much illegal and hugley violates privacy. Thank you The Shimmy Club for giving us a shiny, new, creative and cool take on objectification. article here

“No space, leave the place” (fingernail test)

A two way mirror must be set INTO the wall, not placed on top of it.

If you rap/knock against the mirror, one installed onto a wall (a normal mirror) will make a dull sound, because there’s something behind it. A two-way will have more reverberation.

Use the flashlight on your phone to shine on the mirror, if it’s a two-way, you’ll be able to see into the other room.

You can also shield your eyes and see in if you lean up against the glass.

What the fuck?

This is an ongoing series by @sarahseeandersen called “Fangs” - it’s absolutely worth following and keeping up with!

You probably meant ‘Elsa purposely plan a lullaby so that Honeymaren sleeps against her’ but bold of you to assume I won’t make them a couple already hoho

=======

“Don’t ‘cuddle close, scooch in’ me.” Grumbled Honeymaren. 

Elsa eye-rolled to the ceiling of the hut. “Stop acting rough and come to bed, you mess.”

“Mess yourself.”

“Woah. Very mature of a comeback.” Puffed the blonde. “You’re truly tired.”

She helped the Northuldra go on the bed, and she fell heavily on the sheets. 

“This day had like, 30 hours or something. I swear. It’s a conspiracy from the Sun.” Mumbled Honeymaren, her face in the pillow.

Elsa shook her head with a smile as she lifted the sheets and blankets to put them above them two. 

“Here. It’s been a long day for both of us. I’m sure the stars aren’t to blame.”

She was about to relax, but Honeymaren sat up.

“How come you’re not even tired? This is unfair. All my muscles hurt from building that paddock but you look fine. I blame the magic. Or the Giants. You’re truly cheating if you asked for the Giants’ help. I know that they technically are at your service, but they’re too nice with you if they said yes. This just unfair magic.”

“Honey, I love you, but please lay down and shut up.” Smiled Elsa. 

The Sami obeyed, watching her blow on the candles to put the hut into complete darkness. The sole dimmed brightness relaxed Honeymaren, and she knew that Elsa’s lullaby would put her to sleep very easily, like it often did. 

“I know you’ve been jealous at me today, so can I please forgive myself by singing to you?”

Honeymaren smiled in the dark. “Your voice forgives everything. I’m pretty sure you could stop wars with it. Go on.”

Her girlfriend blushed in the dark, and smiled. They cuddled slowly in the bed, and Elsa started to sing. 

The brunette knew the lyrics by heart, but that didn’t change how amazed she was each time Elsa sang it. She closed her eyes, swept away by her voice, which felt like floating in the air above them, and filling the hut. 

Once ‘All if found’ was over, they looked at each other with tired but happy gazes. Honeymaren then smirked. 

“You sing it wrong. The melody is better when it goes high at the end.” She teased.