#Netted Fabrics Market

[shaw-melody]

#Netted Fabrics Market

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Insurance companies are making climate risk worse

Tomorrow (November 29), I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Conservatives may deride the "reality-based community" as a drag on progress and commercial expansion, but even the most noxious pump-and-dump capitalism is supposed to remain tethered to reality by two unbreakable fetters: auditing and insurance:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality-based_community

No matter how much you value profit over ethics or human thriving, you still need honest books – even if you never show those books to the taxman or the marks. Even an outright scammer needs to know what's coming in and what's going out so they don't get caught in a liquidity trap (that is, "broke"), or overleveraged ("broke," again) exposed to market changes (you guessed it: "broke").

Unfortunately for capitalism, auditing is on its deathbed. The market is sewn up by the wildly corrupt and conflicted Big Four accounting firms that are the very definition of too big to fail/too big to jail. They keep cooking books on behalf of management to the detriment of investors. These double-entry fabrications conceal rot in giant, structurally important firms until they implode spectacularly and suddenly, leaving workers, suppliers, customers and investors in a state of utter higgeldy-piggeldy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/29/great-andersens-ghost/#mene-mene-bezzle

In helping corporations defraud institutional investors, auditors are facilitating mass scale millionaire-on-billionaire violence, and while that may seem like the kind of fight where you're happy to see either party lose, there are inevitably a lot of noncombatants in the blast radius. Since the Enron collapse, the entire accounting sector has turned to quicksand, which is a big deal, given that it's what industrial capitalism's foundations are anchored to. There's a reason my last novel was a thriller about forensic accounting and Big Tech:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

But accounting isn't the only bedrock that's been reduced to slurry here in capitalism's end-times. The insurance sector is meant to be an unshakably rational enterprise, imposing discipline on the rest of the economy. Sure, your company can do something stupid and reckless, but the insurance bill will be stonking, sufficient to consume the expected additional profits.

But the crash of 2008 made it clear that the largest insurance companies in the world were capable of the same wishful thinking, motivated reasoning, and short-termism that they were supposed to prevent in every other business. Without AIG – one of the largest insurers in the world – there would have been no Great Financial Crisis. The company knowingly underwrote hundreds of billions of dollars in junk bonds dressed up as AAA debt, and required a $180b bailout.

Still, many of us have nursed an ember of hope that the insurance sector would spur Big Finance and its pocket governments into taking the climate emergency seriously. When rising seas and wildfires and zoonotic plagues and famines and rolling refugee crises make cities, businesses, and homes uninsurable risks, then insurers will stop writing policies and the doom will become undeniable. Money talks, bullshit walks.

But while insurers have begun to withdraw from the most climate-endangered places (or crank up premiums), the net effect is to decrease climate resilience and increase risk, creating a "climate risk doom loop" that Advait Arun lays out brilliantly for Phenomenal World:

https://www.phenomenalworld.org/analysis/the-doom-loop/

Part of the problem is political: as people move into high-risk areas (flood-prone coastal cities, fire-threatened urban-wildlife interfaces), politicians are pulling out all the stops to keep insurers from disinvesting in these high-risk zones. They're loosening insurance regs, subsidizing policies, and imposing "disaster risk fees" on everyone in the region.

But the insurance companies themselves are simply not responding aggressively enough to the rising risk. Climate risk is correlated, after all: when everyone in a region is at flood risk, then everyone will be making a claim on the insurance company when the waters come. The insurance trick of spreading risk only works if the risks to everyone in that spread aren't correlated.

Perversely, insurance companies are heavily invested in fossil fuel companies, these being reliable money-spinners where an insurer can park and grow your premiums, on the assumption that most of the people in the risk pool won't file claims at the same time. But those same fossil-fuel assets produce the very correlated risk that could bring down the whole system.

The system is in trouble. US claims from "natural disasters" are topping $100b/year – up from $4.6b in 2000. Home insurance premiums are up (21%!), but it's not enough, especially in drowning Florida and Texas (which is also both roasting and freezing):

https://grist.org/economics/as-climate-risks-mount-the-insurance-safety-net-is-collapsing/

Insurers who put premiums up to cover this new risk run into a paradox: the higher premiums get, the more risk-tolerant customers get. When flood insurance is cheap, lots of homeowners will stump up for it and create a big, uncorrelated risk-pool. When premiums skyrocket, the only people who buy flood policies are homeowners who are dead certain their house is gonna get flooded out and soon. Now you have a risk pool consisting solely of highly correlated, high risk homes. The technical term for this in the insurance trade is: "bad."

But it gets worse: people who decide not to buy policies as prices go up may be doing their own "motivated reasoning" and "mispricing their risk." That is, they may decide, "If I can't afford to move, and I can't afford to sell my house because it's in a flood-zone, and I can't afford insurance, I guess that means I'm going to live here and be uninsured and hope for the best."

This is also bad. The amount of uninsured losses from US climate disaster "dwarfs" insured losses:

https://www.reuters.com/business/environment/hurricanes-floods-bring-120-billion-insurance-losses-2022-2023-01-09/

Here's the doom-loop in a nutshell:

As carbon emissions continue to accumulate, more people are put at risk of climate disaster, while the damages from those disasters intensifies. Vulnerability will drive disinvestment, which in turn exacerbates vulnerability.

Also: the browner and poorer you are, the worse you have it: you are impacted "first and worst":

https://www.climaterealityproject.org/frontline-fenceline-communities

As Arun writes, "Tinkering with insurance markets will not solve their real issues—we must patch the gaping holes in the financial system itself." We have to end the loop that sees the poorest places least insured, and the loss of insurance leading to abandonment by people with money and agency, which zeroes out the budget for climate remediation and resiliency where it is most needed.

The insurance sector is part of the finance industry, and it is disinvesting in climate-endagered places and instead doubling down on its bets on fossil fuels. We can't rely on the insurance sector to discipline other industries by generating "price signals" about the true underlying climate risk. And insurance doesn't just invest in fossil fuels – they're also a major buyer of municipal and state bonds, which means they're part of the "bond vigilante" investors whose decisions constrain the ability of cities to raise and spend money for climate remediation.

When American cities, territories and regions can't float bonds, they historically get taken over and handed to an unelected "control board" who represents distant creditors, not citizens. This is especially true when the people who live in those places are Black or brown – think Puerto Rico or Detroit or Flint. These control board administrators make creditors whole by tearing the people apart.

This is the real doom loop: insurers pull out of poor places threatened by climate disasters. They invest in the fossil fuels that worsen those disasters. They join with bond vigilantes to force disinvestment from infrastructure maintenance and resiliency in those places. Then, the next climate disaster creates more uninsured losses. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Finance and insurance are betting heavily on climate risk modeling – not to avert this crisis, but to ensure that their finances remain intact though it. What's more, it won't work. As climate effects get bigger, they get less predictable – and harder to avoid. The point of insurance is spreading risk, not reducing it. We shouldn't and can't rely on insurance creating price-signals to reduce our climate risk.

But the climate doom-loop can be put in reverse – not by market spending, but by public spending. As Arun writes, we need to create "a global investment architecture that is safe for spending":

https://tanjasail.wordpress.com/2023/10/06/a-world-safe-for-spending/

Public investment in emissions reduction and resiliency can offset climate risk, by reducing future global warming and by making places better prepared to endure the weather and other events that are locked in by past emissions. A just transition will "loosen liquidity constraints on investment in communities made vulnerable by the financial system."

Austerity is a bad investment strategy. Failure to maintain and improve infrastructure doesn't just shift costs into the future, it increases those costs far in excess of any rational discount based on the time value of money. Public institutions should discipline markets, not the other way around. Don't give Wall Street a veto over our climate spending. A National Investment Authority could subordinate markets to human thriving:

https://democracyjournal.org/arguments/industrial-policy-requires-public-not-just-private-equity/

Insurance need not be pitted against human survival. Saving the cities and regions whose bonds are held by insurance companies is good for those companies: "Breaking the climate risk doom loop is the best disaster insurance policy money can buy."

I found Arun's work to be especially bracing because of the book I'm touring now, The Lost Cause, a solarpunk novel set in a world in which vast public investment is being made to address the climate emergency that is everywhere and all at once:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

There is something profoundly hopeful about the belief that we can do something about these foreseeable disasters – rather than remaining frozen in place until the disaster is upon us and it's too late. As Rebecca Solnit says, inhabiting this place in your imagination is "Completely delightful. Neither utopian nor dystopian, it portrays life in SoCal in a future woven from our successes (Green New Deal!), failures (climate chaos anyway), and unresolved conflicts (old MAGA dudes). I loved it."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/28/re-re-reinsurance/#useless-price-signals

#pluralistic #doom loop #insurance #insuretech #climate #climate risk #climate emergency #the lost cause #market forces #risk management #price signals #control boards #decarbonization #bond vigilantes #climate resilience

[angryschnauzer]

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 2

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Warnings: None for this chapter

Chapter 1

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Wordcount: 2699

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Chapter 2

Sy looked in the back of his truck, mentally ticking off what he needed to take with him to harvest the Lavender. He had shears and a scythe, a whole load of old flour sacks to load it into. He also grabbed his Go-pro in the hope she would be ok filming it, the smoker to calm the bees and hopefully get them to stay away from the plants long enough to harvest, plus his netted hat as dozy bees had a tendency to try and find their way into hair, ears, anywhere they could settle down for a snooze. A quiet woof followed by the sound of a metal bowl hitting the driveway caught his attention, turning to see Akia patiently sitting at the side of the truck;

“Oh you want to come too? Do you think she’s going to be there to give you belly rubs the whole time?”

“Awoo”

“Hmmm, me first girl, me first…” Sy mused as he moved the basket of produce he’d gathered for you from his stock so a furry snout didn’t try to get at anything in it; “You need to be on your best behaviour. No peeing on her flowers, don’t poop in her yard, go into the meadow to do it. Okay, put your water bowl in the truck and you can get in” 

Sy nodded his head to the open door, watching as Akia picked up her water bowl and set it into the passenger footwell, before she jumped up onto the passenger seat. Leaving her in the truck, Sy gathered the last few things he needed before locking the door and climbing into the vehicle. Suddenly remembering one last thing he ran back into the cabin, appearing seconds later with a bundle under his arm which he set on the back seat;

“No, not for you girl”

The dog let out a snort before settling back to sleep on the seat in the sunshine as Sy started the engine and backed off the driveway.

-

You saw Sy pull onto your driveway as you’d been folding laundry, quickly putting it away before you smoothed your dress down and made your way outside.

“Hey, do you need any help?”

Greeting you with a warm smile he reached into his truck and pulled out a basket, handing it to you;

“You can take this? Its just a few things to say thank you”

At a quick glance at the basket you counted at least four jars of honey, a small bottle of honey liquor, and a set of pillar candles.

“Oh, and this…”

Sy set a parcel around the size of a house brick wrapped in a clean linen dish towel on top of the basket, lifting the fabric for you to see;

“Honey bread?!”

“Freshly baked this morning”

“I saw!”

“You saw?”

“On your instagram… it was the first thing i saw when i woke up and it certainly gave me an appetite!”

“Well glad i could be of service” Sy laughed as he lifted things out of the flat bed back of the truck; “Are you ok if i set the camera up to film harvesting the Lavender? So I can use it for social media?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, do you need anything else?”

At that moment Akia jumped out of the cab, her metal bowl held in his mouth;

“Are you ok with Akia being here whilst i work? She’s agreed to go potty in the meadow, she brought her water bowl”

Laughing you nodded;

“Sure thing” turning to the house you called over your shoulder; “C’mon Akia, let me fill that water bowl up, it's going to be a hot afternoon”

You had not been wrong when you’d said it was going to be hot, however the temperature was somewhat raised even more so once you saw Sy working. You had tried to keep out of his way, not wanting to interrupt but also not wanting to be overtly obvious in watching him work. Instead you found your book and took a seat on the covered porch where the breeze from the front of the building came through the clematis that hung over the roof, you could see some of the garden but not all of it. 

After half an hour Akia had come up to the porch and lay by your feet, before you’d patted the spare side of the bench seat and she’d carefully climbed up, immediately rolling onto her back with her head in your lap as you absentmindedly gave her belly scratches between turning pages of your book. The book however was eventually rested open on your lap, instead you watched Sy work as he used the smoker to placate the bees, your attention drawn to the way his t-shirt clung to his back in the heat, the way his jeans fit snugly around his ass. Far too many minutes passed as you gratuitously watched him work, but thankfully you noticed he was coming to the end of the Lavender bushes, so you decided to grab some cold drinks.

As you were returning to the shade of the porch a few minutes later, you saw Sy turn as you set the tray down, waving him over as you poured a tall glass of iced tea, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. He took the steps to the porch in one stride, a smile on his face as he pulled his bee keepers netted hat off and wiped his hands on his jeans as you handed him the glass;

“Thanks. Hot work out there”

“Hmm-mmm” you sipped your drink, not wanting to say what had entered your mind, and thankfully Akia saved the moment. With a yawn and stretch the pooch climbed off the seat and came to sit by Sy’s feet.

“Oh, okay then” he signed, lifting an ice cube out of his drink and feeding it to the dog who proceeded to happily crunch it; “That good girl?”

“Rrrrrr”

“Does she want some ice cubes in her water bowl?”

“WOOF”

“I think that’s a yes, if it's alright?” Sy answered

Quickly running inside you filled a bowl with cubes from the freezer before returning and dumping them into her water bowl as promised. The dog happily crunched and drank, before trotting off through your yard and disappearing into the meadow.

“So, have the bees gotten off the bushes? I presume that’s what you were doing with the smoke…”

Sy nodded and turned to look out over your garden;

“Yeah, they are quite sleepy now, most have disappeared into the grasses, the few that are left will probably head into your clematis”

You looked over your garden before turning back to Sy;

“I imagine you have to be quite a horticulturalist when working with bees. How did you get into it in the first place?”

Sy smiled at you as he sipped his drink, considering his words;

“Used to be a First Responder with the fire department until I got injured on the job and was medically retired… but I was close to burn out anyway; city life, the drive to succeed and push myself ever further and further. The injury and recovery gave me time to reconsider life and goals. Took my payout and moved out here. The hives came with the cabin and seemed like a fun hobby whilst i tried to figure out what to do next… turns out they were what i was to do next”

 He grabbed the pitcher of iced tea and offered it to you first, filling your glass before he refilled his own;

“What about you? What brought you to this sleepy little town?”

“Same as you; recovery, a new start. A chance to start afresh and decide my own path. My job means i can work from home”

“What do you do?”

“I write exam papers and tests… you know, the standardised ones that you take in Middle School and High School. Mostly in Math…”

Sy laughed;

“Oh, so you’re responsible for the ‘if someone buys 8 watermelons and gives someone else two, but then doubles their quantity at the next market’ type questions”

“Yeah, that’s me”

Sy drained his glass before setting it onto the tray, and with a sigh he nodded to the lavender;

“Well, i’d better get working before the bees wake up”

“No worries, i have some questions i need to work on, just give me a shout if you need anything”

“Thanks”

-

Your plans for working the rest of the afternoon all but failed. You had made a valiant effort to start, bringing your laptop out to the bench seat, but the moment you’d looked up and realised Sy had taken his shirt off and was steadily and rhythmically using the sharp scythe to harvest the lavender into small haystacks you were done for. You were mesmerised by the way his back muscles rippled, by the way his arms and shoulders were sculpted. Every now and again you could see a rivulet of perspiration slowly run down his back, and you had to clench your thighs together to try and quell the arousal that was ever growing between your legs. 

Gratuitously watching Sy work you had been thankful you were somewhat hidden by the shade of the porch, knowing full well that if you even attempted to step off it you’d probably combust from how turned on you were. By late afternoon the yard was mostly in the dappled shade of the fruit trees that grew alongside the meadow, a warm breeze in the air as you saw Akia coming back from exploring for a good hour in the fields. Grabbing a bowl of ice cubes you dumped them into her water bowl just as she came padding across the lawn, her tongue hanging out. Giving her a brief head scratch before she discovered her ice bowl, you missed that Sy had finished his task, tying the sacks together so he could load the bales into his truck;

“All done” glancing up from Akia you saw Sy approaching, trying your best not to look at his wide chest, his body rippling and toned from manual labour. 

“What will you do with it?”

Sy mopped his brow with his t-shirt, looking at the mass of bales in front of him;

“First I'll dry it, then thresh it to get the blooms off the stems. I'll be adding it to candles and wax melts, perhaps have a look into making those bath fizz things. Honey and lavender is known for being a great combination that sells well” At that moment Akia let out an exaggerated huff, before going back to panting with her tongue hanging out; “Hey, do you mind if I use the hose on Akia? When she spends a long time out in the sunshine she can get a bit overheated”

“Sure, the faucet is just round the corner of the porch. Hey, did you want to stay for dinner? If you like… i just thought you’ve been working all day - on your weekend no less - i’ve got more than enough for two”

“That’d be really nice, thanks” Sy had a hold of Akia's collar as you left, watching you head inside. Turning to his dog he quickly knelt down to her level;

“Okay, so we’ll be having dinner here girl, i’m sure she’ll have something you can have, but you need to be on your best behaviour, no begging at the table, no creepy staring and drooling at the same time, yeah?”

“Rrrrrr”

“C’mon, lets get that hose on you, you stinky beast”

-

As you had prepared the steaks and salad you watched out of the kitchen window as Sy hosed Akia down, almost chopping your finger off as he turned the hose on himself, flicking his head back and shaking the droplets off, to which they caught the low late afternoon sunshine like droplets of gold;

“Oh fuck… I'm in so much trouble…” you muttered to yourself.

When you emerged from the back door with a tray of raw steaks and utensils Sy had pulled on his t-shirt and was now sporadically squirting the hose so that Akia could run through the droplets and try and catch them with her mouth. Setting the tray down beside the grill you checked the tank before firing up the heat, using the wire brush to clean off the last of the charring before setting the meat on to cook. 

When you sat down to eat you used the small bistro set in the garden, settling an old casserole dish on the grass for Akia that contained some left over boiled rice from the night before, a bag of stewed vegetables you’d defrosted from the freezer, and a spare steak without the spicy marinade you’d grilled. For you and Sy it was Steaks and salad, with his freshly made bread on the side, to which the pair of you devoured the entire loaf;

“This bread is SO good” you complimented.

Laughing, Sy nodded, before pointing his fork at his steak;

“I could say the same about your steak, you really know how to handle a decent piece of meat”

You paused chewing, the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth before you could hold it in any longer and let out a snort of laughter at what Sy had said.

“Oh god, I'm sorry… i didn’t mean…” he grew flustered, but you at that point had dissolved into a fit of giggles which were eventually infectious, the pair of you at the point where you were unable to make eye contact from continued outbursts. 

Finally when you’d both calmed down and the meal was finished, Sy helped you to clear up before he started to load his truck. Akia slowly climbed into the passenger seat, tired from a day of running around in the sunshine. You came out onto the porch with a small dish of leftover meat for her, setting it onto the small table as you unwrapped a beeswax wrap and started to press it over the bowl. Even though your hands were warm it didn’t seem to want to stick, and as Sy approached to get the last thing for his truck he saw you struggling.

“Need some help?”

Without waiting for an answer he laid his hands over yours, the combined heat warming the wax and softening it. You were acutely aware of how close he was, his breath was warm on your face and as you looked up your mouths were a hair's width apart. You searched his face for a tell, to see if he was feeling what you were feeling. He moved closer then paused and you were wondering if he was going to kiss you and had stopped or had second thoughts. Only a single thought ran through your own mind, and that was ‘now or never’. 

However the pause was too long and he pulled away, looking down at the bowl;

“There, all warmed up”

You followed his gaze and realised he was talking about the bowl;

“Oh, yes. All done. Here, for Akia”

Taking he he smiled and nodded;

“Thanks, she’ll love it”

He turned to make his way towards his truck, and with a small sigh you turned back towards your house.

“Wait” 

Standing facing each other this time he pressed his lips to you cheek;

“Thank you for today”

“It’s… it’s alright…”

“Can I see you again sometime?”

His question surprised you, but you eagerly nodded;

“I’d like that”

With a gentle squeeze of your arm he let out a soft sigh before turning back to his truck;

“I’ll text you later”

You nodded, grinning as you watched as he started to reverse his truck out of your driveway. In the low light of the sunset the golden rays glinted in the chrome trim of the truck, Sy’s cheerful face smiling at you as he gave you a little wave. You waved back, watching as he drove down the hill and out of sight, wrapping your arms around you before you turned back to your house, nervous but excited for what the future held.

Chapter 3 >>>

#as sweet as honey #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill

[bjtch-craft]

For The First Time

Prince Eric x Black! Male Reader

✩ Summary: Eric takes the reader to see new things and try new foods and clothes.

✩ Word Count: 2,004

✩ Genre: Fluff

✩ Request: Yes or No

✩ Warnings: This is my first fic so I'm not sure how good this is so please give me feedback please!!! This shit also hella cheesy but in a good way!

 “So what do you think of the island?” Eric ask's [Name]as they walk along the trail overlooking the sea. 

“I love it! But… is there anything else to see?” 

There’s a silence between them, not an awkward silence, more of an understanding type of silence. Eric understands [Name] has probably never seen the things he had just shown him let alone experience the feeling of the hot sun, the warmth of the sand, and the cool breeze that blows past them as they walk down the trail overlooking the sea [Name] had once called home. 

“There’s our local marketplace just up ahead,” Eric answers pointing in front of them.  

Without an answer or even a flinch [Name] grabs his hand and pulls him down the trail causing Eric to stumble and nearly topple over his own feet.

“Wait! Hold on!” Eric yells out before letting out a small laugh. 

Within a matter of minutes, Eric and [Name] are stepping into the market leading to both boys having numerous items shoved into their field of vision. One thing catching [Name’s] eye was off to the side and resting in a small basket on a table. [Name] almost immediately let go of Eric’s hand and swiftly made his way toward the object staring at it for a few seconds. It was small, red, with yellow specks, and green leaves on top of it. He plucked one out and brought it to his lips softly taking a bite.

“Mmmm!” [Name] hummed out in response to the burst of flavor he was experiencing. He quickly grabbed a few more and ate them completely embraced in the taste.  

“Hey!” The vendor yelled, snatching the basket away from the boy. “If you want to eat them you have to pay for them! You can’t just go around stealing from me!” 

[Name] stood there unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry?” 

“So you're gonna pay for what you’ve eaten then right?”

“I don't have anything to pay for.” He said his voice coming off more confused than stern.

“Ha! He’s got nothing to pay for, can you believe that!?”

“What’s going on? What seems to be the problem here?” Eric asks them to jog.

“Well, I caught this young man here eating all of my Strawberries! And when I asked him to pay for what he’s eaten he said he doesn’t have anything to pay with!”

“Strawberries?” [Name] says with genuine confusion.

“How many did he eat?”

“I’m not sure but a couple for sure!”

“Here how about we…” Eric unbuttons his coat pocket pulling out a couple of gold coins. “... buy the whole basket?” Eric hands the vendor a couple of coins, grabs the basket, and turns around to see [Name] disappear once again. “Huh?”

[Name] walks around the market ogling at every little thing he sees and once more something catches his eye. A navy blue long-sleeved button-up. He reaches for it the fabric soft to the touch. He jumps at the feeling of a hand slowly grabbing his waist causing him to twirl around as his moment of fear settles as he stares into Eric's eyes causing him an array of feelings. 

“You scared me!” [Name] cries out not before noticing the Fisherman net bag draped across Eric’s shoulder filled with Strawberries. “Oh, you got more!” he exclaims, reaching into the bag, pulling one out, and taking a bite.  

“That’ll look good on you. It complete’s your deep complexion.” 

“You think so?”

“Of course.” Eric turns toward the vendor and cocks his head towards the shirt. “Could we try it on?”

“Go on ahead.”

[Name] took the shirt off the rack and placed it over his clothes and buttoned it and looked at Eric. ¨So what do you think?¨

Eric shifts his weight onto his left foot and tilts his head from side to side. "Step a little closer,” Eric says, exaggerating the word ¨Little¨.  

[Name] steps closer looking at the ground entering his field of vision are Eric´s hands once more grabbing at his waist and slowly spinning him around. If [Name] had been a couple of shades lighter Eric would for sure have seen the blush that was brewing on his face. 

¨Yeah it looks good, not too tight or too loose. How much?¨

The vendor holds up three fingers and as Eric goes to hand him the coins [Name] gently taps on his shoulder Eric turns around to see [Name] holding up a straw hat. ¨I think this would look good on you!¨ [Name] says gently poking Eric's chest and placing the hat on his head. 

¨Five now.¨ The vendor says a hint of happiness in his tone.

And Eric does as he's told and hands the man five coins, turning around after doing so only to find the other boy missing and poofing into thin air like those cartoons we´ve all watched. 

[Name] wandered down the row of vendors immersed in the new sites and scents he was experiencing for the first time. Well, walking down the rows he would hear things such as.

¨Ẅould you like to try this?¨

¨Freshly grown!¨

¨ Handmade and crafted by me and the local islanders!¨

And of course, he would stop and stare at each thing before racing off to the next thing that caught his eye. And what currently caught his eye was a bouquet he plucked a rose from the bouquet a white rose (A white rose symbolizes youthfulness, innocence, and young love), and smelled it. The smell was new to him; he didn't know how to describe it but he was immersed in the scent. Not before long another site caught his eye. It was a combination of red, orange, and yellow and left a trail of smoke floating into the air.

He steps towards the site but is soon stopped by Eric softly grabbing his hand ¨Hey! There you are I should keep you on a leash to prevent you from wandering off! What do you have there?¨ 

¨A flower! I don't know what type but I remember seeing them in a book that I had found.¨ 

Eric takes the flower, breaks the steam, and places it behind his ear twisting a curl around the steam. 

¨Ẅhere were you off to?¨ 

[Name] takes Eric's hand in his and moves to his right-hand side and points into the sea of people. 

¨Isn´t that the most beautiful thing you´ve ever seen!¨ [Name] says in his tone nothing short of complete joy.

Eric squints his eyes and tilts his head from side to side searching for the quote on quote ¨Most beautiful thing he's ever seen¨.  ¨What am I looking for?¨

¨That! Don´t you see it? Whatś the word…. Fire!¨ [Name] answers continuously pointing his finger into the crowd. 

¨Oh? Have you never seen a fire before?¨ [Name] shakes his head. ¨Well how about this once we get back to the castle I´ll ask Grimsby to head to the shore later tonight and set up a small picnic for us with a bonfire. How's that sound?¨ Eric announced with a soft smile on his face. 

¨Amazing! But do you think we could look around some more?¨ 

¨Of course. Get anything you want!¨

And he collected items such as a hand fan,  Oranges, Cherries, and a blanket and even sooner the sun had set behind the vast ocean and the moon had risen.  Eric and [Name] headed down to the beach hand in hand the net bag Eric had bought now held a supply of Cherries, Strawberries, and oranges. 

The soft glow of the fire blanketed the sand and a wave of excitement washed over [Name] he gripped Eric´s hand tighter as they walked toward it ([Name] walking a tad bit faster)  he could already feel the heat of the fire on his body.  Eric and [Name] set up a small picnic a couple of feet away from the fire.  Laying the blanket on the sand and placing the bag on said blanket.  

Eric watched as the other boy stared longingly at the glowing fire like moths to light. The glow of the fire reflecting off of his dark skin as [Name] leaned closer toward the bonfire feeling the heat smother his face. He slowly stretched a hand growing closer toward it, the heat slowly starting to burn his fingertips. Burn? Burn? Burn! 

A golden flame licked three of his fingers (index, middle, and ring finger) burning them to the touch causing him to let out a soft cry. Eric immediately shot up, grabbing his elbow and pulling him away from the mass of heat. 

¨Ow….¨ [Name] whimpered holding his burned fingers in his other hand. 

¨Here let me see¨ Eric stretches a hand out toward [Name] as he shows him his burn. 

Eric holds [Names] wrist gently inspecting the injury before looking into his eyes. 

“‘You’ll be fine! Once we get back to the castle I’ll put some ointment on it and it’ll be as if you never got burned.”�� 

“Really?”

“Absolutely! Would you like me to uh… kiss it better?”

A confused look grew on [Names] face as a silence grew between them, this one awkward, unlike last time. 

“O-okay.”

Eric reaches out and takes [Name’s] wrist in his hand and brings his fingertips to his lips and plants a soft kiss on them. [Name] drew in a breath and felt as if his stomach had suddenly become empty and a herd of butterflies had begun fluttering around inside that pit.  Eric lets go of [Name’s] wrist and it slowly falls toward the ground. 

“Feel better?”

“I feel something…”  

“What?”

“Nothing! I feel better.”

“Good!” Eric reaches into the bag and pulls out an orange and hands it to [Name].  [Name] takes it from him and bites into it “No!” Eric shouts and pulls the fruit away from him. “You’re supposed to peel it!” Eric says letting out a small laugh as he starts unraveling the orange. 

Once Eric is done taking off the peal he then takes apart the orange and hands one slice to [Name]  and he slowly bites into it.

“Do you like it?”

“It tastes-It tastes good!  What is it?”

“An orange!”

“Orange” [Name] quietly repeated. 

For the next couple of hours or so Eric and [Name] talked, told stories, and learned so much about each other’s life and the island ([Name] mostly learned about the island of course). Eric lay on his back, his arm behind his head, with [Name’s] head resting on his stomach, lying the opposite way Eric was.  Eric pointed up at the sky and [Name] listened intently as Eric blabbed on about the stars that sat in the black sheet that was the sky. 

“That’s Leo the Lion.”

“It’s beautiful…” 

Eric sits up and [Name] sits up as well and cocks his head to look at Eric with a confused expression. 

“Can I kiss you?”

[Name] nods his head looking up into Eric’s bold blue eyes as Eric smiles at him before slowly leaning in (Name doing the same) their lips touch and [Name] feels a different feeling this time, not the butterfly feeling or an awkward feeling. It was something… different. He felt a warmth in him, not the type that burned but that felt inviting and comforting. On Eric’s lips, he could taste a hint of strawberries well Eric on the other hand could taste the Orange he had eaten the flavor still on his lips.

Both boys could feel their hearts flutter and a great deal of softness could be felt between them. It was nearly perfect the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and the quiet whistle of the wind only added to the ambiance. 

Eric pulled away his pale face, a soft pastel pink, his mouth twisted into a goofy grin. 

“That was…” [Name] looks up into the night sky searching for the right word. “... to die for… if that’s the right word!” 

#lgbtq #prince eric x male reader #jonah hauer king #the little mermaid #male x male #male reader #black male reader #gay #mlm #prince eric #god i need him so bad

[rom-e-o]

One Breakfast At A Time -Modern!AU (Costance/Ebenezer) (Minific)

Morning light, diffused by the early morning clouds into a rosy glow that draped across London like a diaphanous net, seeped through the curtains. Ebenezer Scrooge, very much alert but moving the speed of molasses, inched out of his lover’s embrace without waking her, unwinding himself from the tangle or arms and bedsheets.

Constance DoGoode, his girlfriend of half a year, snoozed happily, smiling against her pillow as she turned away from the rays of sunlight seeping through the curtains.

She hugged the stuffed, silk-covered pillow beneath her head, auburn hair cascading down the milky fabric in waves of molten copper.

“Mmm….light as a feather, happy as an angel…” Constance mumbled in her sleep. “Mm, very merry…”

His hand went to his mouth as he chuckled with the utmost fondness at the sight. Constance was a heavy sleeper and dreamer, he’d learned. She often talked in her sleep, and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what she was dreaming about.

In addition to providing a series of amusing moments he’d often reveal to her later that morning, her murmuring also helped to confirm her lingering distraction.

With her still asleep, he could jump into action.

After making sure Constance was still asleep, he moved with quiet grace and giddiness to the kitchen of his London flat, collecting ingredients from the fridge and utensils to prepare a special breakfast. Their night together had been a private symphony of sighs, moans, and laughter, and now Ebenezer was determined to make the morning just as memorable.

With care, he selected fresh eggs, ripe tomatoes, and a medley of herbs from the kitchen's small garden, which he kept on a small windowsill. Years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of stocking his kitchen so fully. Fresh food was a waste of money, as far as he’d been concerned. Now, the redeemed philanthropist couldn't help but smile to himself as he went about cooking, eager to surprise her with a homemade breakfast.

It wasn’t much, he supposed. He was no chef, but he took great joy in cooking for the woman he loved. It was the first time he’d done something like this for another, but he’d been planning the surprise for a week, when he’d used her late-shift at the coffee house as the opportunity to sneak some ingredients from the market and up into his fridge before leaving again to pick her up.

Predictably, she’d spent the night, so he was glad to have planned ahead.

In the cozy kitchen, he hummed a gentle tune as he worked. The clinking of dishes and the sizzle of ingredients provided a domestic harmony alongside him.

Meanwhile, Constance stirred in the bedroom, awakening to the comforting and savory scents wafting through the air. She stretched and yawned, her eyes fluttering open to the soft light that spilled into the room.

She shivered a bit, bare from their time together the night before, and reached across the bed for her discarded pajamas. She eased into the silk short and matching camisole with ease before retreating back to the warmth of the covers. It was tempting to roll over into her boyfriend's abandoned spot, where she knew the aroma of his cologne

Just as she nestled back in, she heard the clinking of cutlery and creak of soft footsteps on the flat’s historic hardwood floors.

Ebenezer entered the bedroom, a tray balanced in his hands with an array of delectable treats. A soft smile played on his lips as he approached the bed, where Constance sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

"Good morning," he greeted her, his eyes reflecting the joy of the moment.

Constance's face lit up in response. "Good morning. What's all this?" she asked, eyeing the tray with curiosity.

"Breakfast in bed," Ebenezer announced, setting the tray before her. "I-It’s nothing much. Just a  little something to make the morning special."

The tray bore a feast for the senses – fluffy scrambled eggs with herbs, slices of perfectly ripe tomatoes, and a steaming cup of rich coffee (which he knew she preferred over breakfast tea). A small vase with a single, delicate flower adorned the tray, adding a touch of elegance.

As Constance took in the scene before her, she couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth. "Nothing much? Ebenezer, this is wonderful! You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he replied, settling down beside her on the bed. "To many more mornings just like this."

As they finished breakfast, Constance thanked him with another kiss on the cheek. “Do you need help with the dishes?"

“Oh, no, I’ll get them,” he said, stacking them on the tray artfully.

After multiple reassurance, he finally convinced her to leave the task to him.

As Constance disappeared into the bathroom for her morning shower, Ebenezer carried the tray to the kitchen sink with a smile. The clinking of plates and silverware echoed in the otherwise quiet flat provided a comforting soundtrack to his thoughts. When added to by the sound of rushing water from the shower bathroom

As he scrubbed plates clean in the sink, his mind wandered to the journey that had led him to this moment. Constance had walked into his life like a gentle sunrise, slowly illuminating the corners of his heart that had long been shrouded in shadows. Their connection felt deeper with each passing day, and he found himself reflecting on…well, just how much she meant to him.

The realization hit him with profound clarity – Constance wasn't just a fleeting chapter in his life. The thought of a future without her seemed unimaginable. It definitely wasn’t a future he wanted to live.

With the dishes neatly arranged and Constance still singing in the shower, Ebenezer dried his hands and settled into a moment of quiet contemplation. His heart swelled with affection, and the idea of a future together began to crystallize in his mind.

Proposing, the notion whispered softly through his thoughts. The word lingered in the air, carrying with it a promise of shared tomorrows. Ebenezer had never been one for impulsive decisions, but with Constance, it felt different – as if their connection transcended the ordinary rules of time.

A smile played on his lips as he envisioned the day he would ask her to be his forever. He could almost hear the words, feel the weight of the ring in his pocket, and see the joy in her eyes. Yet, he knew that such a moment required careful planning, the right setting, and the perfect words to properly and artfully convey the depth of his feelings.

Lost in these musings, he was startled by the sound of the shower shutting off. Constance emerged, wrapped in a towel, her laughter mingling with the remaining traces of steam in the air. She caught his eye, and the room seemed to brighten with her presence.

"What's got you smiling so much?" she asked, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Ebenezer chuckled, his heart still dancing to the melody of his thoughts. "Just thinking about the future," he replied, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "And how fortunate I am to have you in it."

She leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. "I feel the same way."

In that ordinary yet extraordinary morning, Ebenezer's heart swelled with the certainty that, someday, he would ask Constance to be his forever.

Until then, he would continue to try and show her with every passing moment just how much he adored her. One shared breakfast as a time.

<><><>

@quill-pen speaking of our earlier discussion, this is probably the shortest thing I've done for them, haha.

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge a christmas carol #scrooge netflix #scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode #modern!au #scroogeverse

[parmmykitty]

I'm back to daydreaming about Wesker the second I finish my final essay. Just my regularly scheduled simping.

Sugar baby! Wesker x Sugar daddy! Reader pt.1

(The term sugar daddy is gender neutral to me. Anyone can be a sugar daddy if they put their mind to it!)

Wesker knows he's too pretty to get an actual job so he must be paid for simply living. He believes that his presence alone is worth thousands to the world. Any money he does make while committing crimes against nature doing his job just goes right back into funding his own research so he's pretty much doing it pro bono. Thankfully he's got a sugar daddy to pay for regular living costs (of course the mega yacht in re4r is a regular living cost). Albert couldn't just have any sugar daddy either; they have to be the richest he could find.

There ain't no way in hell that Albert Wesker isn't the world's biggest sugar baby. Wesker has been relying on rich people since day one. Spencer was the one who funded him until he just stopped and Excella was straight up his sugar daddy later. But who is his nonbioterrorist related sugar daddy? You!

And of course you're like mega rich. We're talking a net worth of 20 small countries combined rich. Bezos level money.

Wesker initially uses you for your money but over time he starts to see more in you. At first the way that you would insist on eating together would annoy him to no end but now he likes the way conversation with you fills the silence. He still wants your money eventhough he likes you. He has you pay for his expensive clothes and the high tech stuff that he uses (Ada's hacking gun), but you don't mind. Would genuinely give him every last penny you have just because he's hot. You completely agree with him that his presence is worth thousands to you.

You absolutely adore buying him things that you think he might like or need. Even if it's the smallest improvement to something he already has you'll think that the extra $500 is worth the difference. Sunglasses that have more UV protection with a blue light filter, steel toed dress shoes, full double stitched wardrobe with the best fabrics all custom-made. Absolutely anything that could be even slightly better. Every day he gets a "small" gift from you to make things easier for him like upgrading his toothbrush to the best electric one on the market when he complained the night before that his arm was tired after work.

You try your damnedest to optimize every second that he is at home to make life easier for him. Since he works so hard at whatever research he does you do your best to make sure your home is relaxing and allows him to calm down after a long day. You spend most of your day thinking of ways to help Albert and that alone makes you content. Sweeping away all of Wesker's worries is a full time job for you but it's one you love.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #wesker x reader #resident evil

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Star-crossed”

Siren Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/39024159

just wanted to save it here too. a little something i wrote for mermay 2022

──────── ･ ･ ✶ ･ ･ ────────

The ocean is a beautiful, mysterious place, but the creatures lurking in the darkest depths of the ocean are far more mysterious.

Evil, enchanting creatures that are known to bring men to their downfall.

There are two golden eyes glowing in the dark, visible just above the surface of the ocean, akin to the predatory eyes of a crocodile scrutinising its prey.

Pointy ears half submerged, Alcina listens meticulously — from each flap of a fly’s wings above the ocean to each pop of air bubble beneath the water surface. Her fins and scales alert her to every tiny little movement in the sea.

Somewhere in the safe distance is an outline of an anchored ship. The sharp tips of her ears twitch at the sudden sound of her daughter’s wails, and her lips pull into a snarl — sharp teeth gleaming under the soft, silvery shine of the crescent.

Alcina does not waste another second investigating from afar. Immediately, she dives down, swims directly towards peril without hesitation.

Her daughter needs her.

The closer she gets to the ship, the stronger the scent of blood becomes. It is not just anyone’s blood. It is her darling daughter’s.

So, when she finally arrives at the ship, and sees the only seaman with a weapon in hand, she has no reasons not to leap out of water and strike him with her clawed hand.

Alcina does not know that you are a woman disguised as a man. In fact, you are a researcher embarking on countless sea adventures to investigate the myths of Alcina’s very species — mysterious and magnificent sirens.

The captain of the ship is well known in the black market for selling rare, peculiar sea creatures. After many fruitless endeavors on your own leave you with no leads whatsoever, you have disguised as one of his minions, and boarded the ship in hopes of coming across the object of your fascination.

On the night of only the second day out in the ocean, something unexpected is caught in the net.

Excitement bubbling in your stomach, you have rushed to the deck, but when you see the beautiful creature being poked and prodded, the sharp metal of harpoons and knives penetrating skin and drawing dark purple blood, it is replaced by ire.

You have known that these men are merciless. From the beginning, you have a grand ploy devised in your head.

It is simple, easy, and on paper at least, almost flawless — disguise yourself as a seaman, do not bring unnecessary attentions and, lo and behold the grand finale of your plan, surreptitiously release whatever they have caught back into the ocean.

By the time the ship docks, and they notice that their precious cargo has gone missing, you will have long disappeared without a trace.

But of course, things don’t always go as planned, do they?

One stab in particular makes her screech. The pitiful creature is thrashing about, struggling in vain to scramble away from dirty boots and sharp, unforgiving objects.

The man is clearly enjoying damaging such beautiful being. The sickly sweet grin on his face is a testament to how disgustingly vile he is. It makes you want to wipe it off his face — whatever the cost, no matter the consequence.

Disguise be damned!

The ploy be damned!

If you can send her back into the ocean right away, then you will.

Your facade falls together with the man torturing the trembling creature. You do not even realise that it is the captain himself until after you have forcefully yanked the offending object out of his hand, and punched him square in the face. His nose breaks with an audible crack.

Fuck!

All of a sudden, pain blossoms in your arm. You have half a mind to believe that a mere punch has rendered your arm broken. But then, you see red seeping into the fabric of your ruined shirtsleeve.

The harpoon has long left your hand, falling with a clatter onto the sole, and your body, too, joins it on the cold, hard wood as you are unceremoniously shoved.

Sirens are said to be deadly gorgeous, the personification of dark and dangerous, the pinnacle of femme fatale. Although you have little doubt about them, you have always suspected their allure described in myths to be exaggerations.

Now, with the solid proof visible to your very naked eyes, it is safe to say that the myths, correct though they are, are in fact lacking in some aspects. The one that is caught in the net is beautiful, very beautiful indeed, but this one whom you are pinned beneath, oh, she is the most magnificent thing your eyes have ever had the pleasure of beholding!

For a moment, the reality that she is claws deep inside your chest totally slips your mind, for it is busy singing praises of the very thing that does not seem hesitant to rip your heart out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the captain approaching, sword in hand. Without thinking, your hands grasp her ribcage, for a fleeting moment unconscious of the gills that are located there.

The surprised little gasp that tumbles out of her plump lips, and directly down the canals of your ears, is the reason behind the colossal eruption of butterflies inside your stomach.

The shadow looming over the two of you is the only sign you need to hastily roll the two of you over, missing by a whisker, the sword that comes striking down. The force with which it is thrown is brutal, sure to pierce scales, flesh and bone. The paper thin edge of the sword manages to catch you, leaving a crimson slash across your back while a good inch of the tip lodges itself in the sole of the boat.

In lieu of the wood, it could very well have been her body. Strangely, the mere idea of it forces ice down your spine.

On the other hand, it only encourages the claws already buried deep in your chest to sink even deeper, and you wince, let out a whimper. You are not expecting her to appreciate your help, but you are also not expecting her to kill you right then and there.

Just why is she so hell-bent on hurting you?

Have you offended her somehow?

You don’t stay on her face long enough to see the look of bewilderment on her face, a flicker of recognition dancing behind those shimmering golden pools.

Before you can ponder any longer, you hear the captain commanding his men to make certain that the two creatures do not flee the ship. It forces you to your feet, and picking up the discarded sword, you quickly cut the net in which the wounded one is entangled.

“Go! Leave now!”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, one after another of the crewmates comes running towards you, and you strike them with the back of your sword. You do your best to redirect their attentions to you, buying enough time for the other two to escape.

And just like that, you are your own undoing, left to eat your own empty words.

It is one against many. Of course, you are bound to lose. But by the time you have no energy left, and the sword is eventually knocked out of your hand, the two mysterious creatures are thankfully but regretfully long gone.

──────── ･ ･ ✶ ･ ･ ────────

Why has she returned anywhere near this godforsaken eyesore of a ship? Alcina is none the wiser.

Perhaps a part of her feels bad.

She has learnt from her daughter that contrary to what she believes, you have been the one to save her daughter. If it is not for you to intervene, Bela has said, the bastard who is having fun inflicting pain upon her would have actually maimed her.

In the scheme of things, as wrong as it is to immediately point the finger at you, considering the situation she has found herself in, wrongfully accusing you is understandtable. Her little Bela has been suffering after all, and she cannot afford the luxury of dawdling.

She does admit however that she has done you a great wrong by wounding you, not to mention her daughter’s saviour, so terribly.

Still, she lies.

She knows very well why she has returned here. Because you remind Alcina of her.

Could it be— no.

Absolutely not! She chides herself. Clearly, you are a stupid man-thing. There is not a ghost of a chance that you are her darling girl.

Peeved at this ceaseless delusion of hers, she is on the cusp of swimming back to her daughters, and more than ready to disregard everything about today, when all of a sudden, the tranquilility of the night is spoiled by a booming splash.

Underwater, the ripples tickle the gills, and scales on her tail.

An invisible but a profoundly palpable force compells her to swim towards the source. The brain tells her that it is a bad idea; its endless lectures, she ignores in favour of the heart’s desire.

What awaits her on the other end is you. Hands bound behind your back, you are being dragged into the bottomless abyss of the ocean. The culprit is the large anchor attached to the very end of the same rope that is tied to your shackled feet.

Her heart stutters.

Your movements have left the head scarf floating away in the water. All this time, it has been hiding your lustrous silky strands.

The awful mustache she has very clearly seen on your face has simply fallen off. It, too, has been a fake all along.

It goes without saying that the twin parallel moles on your shoulder are indeed real. It is not just her treacherous eyes playing awful tricks on her.

With both of the additions gone, and that one little detail, you and her darling girl become the same person.

The same soul in the same body. Only different lives during different times.

In this life, they have merely crossed paths, and the endless circle has already begun. You are not only hurt as a consequence of helping Alcina and her daughter escape, but injured further by her very own hands.

She feels a sharp stab deep within her chest.

Her darling girl is as selfless as she has remembered her to be.

Kind faced and gentle souled.

With tender hands and a heart of gold.

There is a sudden profound wave of nostalgia that sweeps over her, all-consuming — a beautiful voice that sweetly calls her name, feather-soft fingers that tentatively explore her body, nauseatingly velvety lips that touches her everywhere.

Warm, sunny days filled with stolen kisses and sugary smiles.

Chill and gloominess brought by rainy evenings and cold, winter nights, but they just cannot compare with the warmth and brightness that is you, her sweet girl.

In this bitter, foredoomed tale, Alcina’s grieving heart takes refuge in those little delectable bits that the two of you have so lovingly crafted together.

Because, what awaits them in the end is blood.

So much blood. Every. Single. Time.

And here you are. They have not even begun, and yet, your exquisite frame is already battered and bruised.

Alcina cradles you close against her chest. It is as delightful as it is excruciating to have you in her arms once again. Her bright, shining light, oh how she has missed you!

There is nowhere in this world where she would rather see you than in her arms. Here is where you belong.

Oh but she knows it to be false. She knows it all too well in fact.

To her tremendous relief, you are only unconscious. She has gotten you out of the chains, and enchanted you so that you will be able to breathe underwater. She has also taken the liberty of reading your mind for some much needed informations.

Then, in her human form, Alcina carries you to the cottage you are currently staying at, which is not very far from the ocean.

Tentative fingers glide across your face, as if one real touch from her would turn you to dust. She traces the outline of your every delicate feature that is eternally engraved in her very heart.

One wave of her hand makes the wounds and cuts on your body vanish.

The tears and stains in your shirt repairs themselves, leaving no traces of having ever been ruined, or for that matter, sullied with your own blood.

“It is only wishful thinking but I do want you to know somewhere in here-” A hand rests on your chest, your heartbeat a soft, serene thump beneath her palm. “-that I love you so much....an echo of the past mayhap. But, it is because I love you, my darling, that I have to do this.”

Lips meet your temple, devastatingly tender, and a thumb caresses your cheek, the gesture painfully gentle in contrast to the rough, calloused texture of her skin.

She speaks your name oh so softly with an ache in her heart, a quaver in her voice.

“Unless I cease to exist, there will never be a moment in my life where I stop loving you. Sleep well, precious girl,” A lonesome tear falls. “ …and forget everything about today, about me.”

There is a tale among bards that is notably famous far and wide. Their poems tell us of a human girl who has captured the attention of a creature of the ocean, and in turn befriended her.

With voices so jovial, bards would sing of their beautiful beginning: two entirely different souls that, little by little, find love in each other.

However, the ocean is not always calm, nor is the weather perpetually pleasant.

The creature is a taker, and the girl, a giver.

Kindness, warmth, tenderness: staggering affections and delicate sensations the creature has never experienced before, the human shows her for the very first time.

Kind eyed and gentle souled, her human promises her everything. She gives, and gives and gives until she can give no more because for her darling creature, she has given up her life.

In every life, one way or another, the human chances upon the immortal creature.

But, no matter the time and place, she is destined to an untimely death.

Her fate can be prevented....if, and only if, the two of them never fall in love.

For the creature, the human is her past, present and future. She is her entire life.

Although the human has no recollections of her past lives, the soul knows. It feels.

Without warning, without limitation, each time she beholds the peculiar, magnificent creature, she falls for her all over again.

There is no happy ending to their story. Tragedy is bound to strike.

With voices woefully melancholic, the bards croon of the creature’s enchanted kiss bestowed upon the human.

The creatures of the ocean are magical beings. Such a kiss from them is said to erase one’s memories. One will remember not a trace of ever encountering them.

There would always be a day in the human girl’s life where she would feel particularly empty inside, as if the most vital piece of herself has gone missing — a hollow shell.

Waking up with wet cheeks, and an aching heart, she would always find, held tightly in her hand, a lone curious pearl.

──────── ･ ･ ✶ ･ ･ ────────

It’s either my beloved sacrificing herself to save me, or I sacrificing our love to save her.

I have learnt after all this time that watching my darling human have her own happily ever after, even in the arms of someone who is not me, is a less painful outcome than having to witness, yet another time, my sweet, precious girl perish in my very arms.

How many times do I have to hold her cold, unmoving body within these very arms that have promised her warmth and safety?

I will never be able to keep her safe within my arms. I have tried, and tried and tried only to fail miserably every time. Having no knowledge of me will promise her a much safer, happier life.

You, my dearest, will be able to live your life to the fullest as long as you are far away from me.

It is excruciating, yes. But sometimes, if you truly love someone, you have to release them.

Because what is love, if not the most exquisite form of suffering.

Through blurry vision, I gaze down at the shimmering pearl resting on the palm of my hand.

Behind its bony cage, the stupid organ throbs excruciatingly.

Fist collides with my chest.

Fingers dig into my flesh.

Anything....

Anything to numb this heartache.

Amidst all the jumbled thoughts and confused murmurs, the one word that leaves my mouth with intense clarity as teardrops wet my cheeks has been....

“Oh, Alcina.”

#alcina dimitrescu angst #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil alcina #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #siren #character x reader #fanfic #angst #resident evil #mermay 2022 #human x monster

[writefightandflightclub]

Poe Dameron’s Little Book of Good Things (x GN!reader)

Summary: Poe has been keeping a record, but something is missing.

Genre: angst!! (quite a short one but I’m crying)

Author’s note: I woke up with this in my head -it came to me about 3am but I went back to sleep and don’t know how it clung on- so I’m throwing it down super quick before work. I personally think the idea of Poe keeping this little book is adorable and fluffy and so in character. I also think it’s so in character of me to then go and ruin it with angst. Oops. 😬

Gif by @realoscarisaac

Sometimes, Poe gets down. He hates to admit it, but it’s hard to remember what he’s fighting for when all he sees day in day out is loss and bloodshed. Frayed tempers and despair.

That’s why he started keeping it, this little book of his. Poe Dameron’s Book of Good Things. A place to note down all of the good deeds he observes which make his heart sing. Which remind him there is something worth fighting for.

He starts to write down things he sees on base. The way comrades put each other first - in all the big ways, sure, but all the small ways too, like leaving the last cup of brewed caf for a squadron mate. The way Snap spends the last of his credits to buy Jess a lothcat stuffie because he knows it will make her smile.

He notes down all of the things he sees off-planet too. An older boy helping a sweet younger kid fix his broken kite out of the goodness of his heart, globby tears wiped from the kid’s cheeks and replaced with a smile. A neighbour loaning their speeder to someone across the street because they know it will help them with getting to market.

The tiny things which make up the fabric of good, all woven together and cast like a net across the universe.

Reading through it, in those moments he’s feeling down, reminds Poe that collectively -First Order be damned- the beings in this system are basically good. That people want to help each other. That all is not lost.

The book becomes precious to him. Almost as precious as his mother’s ring which you now wear around your neck. Perhaps that’s why, whenever he’s gone away on a mission, you’ve found that book tucked under your pillow. He trusts you with everything dear to him, from his book to droid to his heart.

Perhaps later, he begins to leave it there because he knows it gets darker with him gone. To remind you that even in those darkest moments, when all your hope is near extinguished, there is still good in this world. Something to keep going for. Something worth fighting for.

The first time you found it hidden there, the corner stabbing your head from underneath the pitifully thin Resistance-issue pillow, you had cried. You had cried at how beautiful this man is. How big his heart is. At how desperately he wishes to believe in something pure. At how much he embodies it.

The second time he left it - when you began to read more - you had cried because you found your deeds amidst these pages too. Because Poe had noticed you, and deemed you worthy of being included in his story of how this universe and those in it are full of light.

And now? Now you cry, clasping this book, because Poe isn’t coming back.

You cry, because all hope is gone. Because your brightest light is snuffed out. Because you can’t see a damned thing left worth fighting for.

You leaf through its pages, tears plopping down and muddying the bleary ink as you take it all in.

You cling to it. To his worldview. To his observations, in lieu of his warm, soft body, because now - more than ever - you know you need to believe in something. You know that Poe would want that for you, and so you try.

You sob, clasping the book to your chest.

You cry because he is gone, of course. You have cried for weeks.

But you are also crying because you cannot find what you need in these pages. Poe did a terrible job, you think. Such an idiot. Because, even though he had documented everything so thoroughly, so reliably, something so glaring is missing. Something which leaves a hollow ache in your whole chest due to its absence.

What’s missing?

What did Poe -the idiot- neglect to include?

All the good that he did.

All the good that he did; right up to his final moments.

His final moments, when he gave himself for the Resistance - because he believed. Believed there was something worth fighting for. Something bigger than him.

Tears streaming down your face, your chest wracked with sobs, you crouch on the floor in front of your drawers and you dig. You dig for what you are looking for, half gasping and half wailing as your fingers finally locate it.

You place it down on the floor, and you hunch over it, clinging on to it as though it can help you. As though it’s a life raft.

It’s not.

All it is is a blank notebook.

Nothing can fix this. You know that. You’re not an idiot. Nothing will ever close this hole in your chest. This hole right beneath Shara’s ring, which sways against your torso.

You can’t fix this. Can’t bring him back.

But you can do something.

You can write.

You can write about all of the good that he did.

Because people need to know.

They need to know how good he was.

Right up until his final moments, sure, but in every moment before that.

In every moment, Poe Dameron was something worth fighting for - and you won’t stop now.

Not even now that he’s gone.

You write, and you cry, and you pour out everything you can think of; then, when you are done, you place it under your pillow.

And, for the first time in a long time, you sleep.

You sleep, because for the first time, you feel like Poe’s not entirely gone. Not lost completely.

The good he did lives on, and he did so much of that. So much of it that he’s everywhere. He’s in your heart. He’s hung around your neck. He’s the twinkle in the eye of every life he saved. He’s cast like a net across the universe, and his light can never go out.

Poe Dameron is the spark.

And the First Order will burn for this.

#Poe Dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #poe dameron space cutie #Star Wars #Poe Dameron angst

[theseasicksailorblog]

Indie Sleaze: 5 item shopping list

My non-negotiable 5 clothing items to live your indie sleaze truth, written as 2000s/2010s fashion historian.

Ballet Flats

Worn by school-teachers and it girls alike, ballet flats have always been a staple in fashion history, especially in the late 2000s and 2010s. For a first time wearer a simple black flat is a safe bet as it can be paired with anything, but if you want to sleaze it up, opt for a metallic or glitter variation. Something to note about indie sleaze fashion is that the more extra it feels, the better it looks, so don't hold back on cool, funky, flats. These can be found in thrift stores, department stores, and all over Amazon.

Metallic Fabric

Since the dawn of rave/party culture, glamorous lamé fabrics have used for just about every article of clothing possible. Cheaper spandex alternatives rose to popularity as The Cobra Snake era partying merged into mainstream. Shiny red leggings paired with a black cropped tank was peak casual 2010s sleaze attire. A great place to find styles like this is Los Angeles Apparel aka American Apparels re-brand. Though they no longer sell the fun colored disco pants and shorts, the lamé collection offers a variety of shiny colorful items with that trustworthy AA quality. Other places to look are party supply stores, poshmark/depop/ebay, rave shops, and of course Amazon.

Ultra Feminine Dresses

One of the most underrated pioneers of indie sleaze fashion is model and t.v. personality Alexa Chung. While Alexa is often grouped with the Twee (shopping list coming soon) and hipster aesthetics of the 2010s her ability to blend soft girlish dresses with last nights makeup allows for an uber sleazy effect. Mini shifts, polka dotted a-lines, and vintage baby-dolls all work as long as you pair them with unkempt hair and grungy tights to keep the edge, bonus points if your dress has a peter pan collar or your tights have rips. You can find these practically anywhere but start at your local thrift store as they usually have large selections of outdated dresses that were popular during this time period. Alternatively look at department stores, vintage/antique markets, and you guessed it Amazon.

Ringer Tee's and Shorts

Before athleisure was an over-saturated mess of "flare leggings" and Lululemon we took inspiration from student athletes everywhere with the iconic ringer tee's and ringer shorts. Getting their name from the contrasting ring of fabric outlining the seams of the article, ringer style pieces were seen everywhere and worn with everything. Both such versatile basics that could be kept casual or dressed up that you might see a ringer tee with a skirt, or ringer shorts with stockings and a blouse. Los Angeles Apparel has great options for both the shirts and the shorts, places like Walmart and Target often carry ringer shorts, and Forever 21 with great ringer tees, and as always Amazon.

Stockings/Tights

It doesn't matter if they're black, white, multicolored, fish-netted, or opaque, stockings always find a way to elevate a basic look and is often what takes an outfit from mainstream to indie sleaze. Don't worry about buying a super nice quality pair as stockings look best with ripping seams and enormous holes. But don't tear them with a fork like those tiktok girls did in 2020, it screams try hard as a real indie sleaze girl would rip them via dancing, curb sitting, and drunken stumbling. Just like the dresses, you can find tights anywhere. However I don't recommend secondhand as they are technically an undergarment and it's hard to ensure the level of cleanliness.

Spacehey saw it first https://spacehey.com/theseasicksailor

#indie sleaze #indie fashion #sleaze #2014 sleaze #2010s #fashion blog #fashion writer #fashion tips #style tips #2010s style #2000s style #alexa chung #twee #5 item shopping list

[femmefatalevibe]

where do you get your clothes from and what would you describe your stye as? I love ur account sm ♡

Hi love! Thanks so much <3

My favorite online shops are Moda Operandi, The Outnet, Farfetch, SSENSE, Luisa Via Roma, Net A Porter, Bergdorf Goodman, Selfridges, FWRD, The Frankie Shop, Pixie Market, COS, 7115 By Szeki, Manière de Voir, Everlane, Perfect White Tee, Rumored, Marcella NYC, Naadam, Lisa Maree, Leau, Dana Foley, Lilysilk, Assembly New York, and Nadine Merabi.

Some of my favorite brands are Nanushka, LouLou Studio, Éterne, Leset, The Frankie Shop (in-house label), LVIR, BITE Studios, Toteme, Norma Kamali, Ninety Percent, Frame, Simkhai, Cinq a Sept, The Range, Stand Studio, Staud, J.W. Anderson, MM6 Maison Margiela, Muiser Paris, Paris Georgia, St. Agni, Anna Quan, and Deadwood Studios.

Tons more too, but this is off the top of my head, lol. I work in fashion, so it's so fun to learn about/meet designers/try on new items for new/new to me brands over the course of a year or a season.

I would describe my style as a "Femme Fatale" meets "Parisian chic" aesthetic or edgy/glam minimalism meets dark Parisian style. I love classic, sharply-tailored silhouettes in all-black and a variety of fabrics (Satin, leather, wool, Pima cotton, etc.) updated with fun structural and cut-out detailing, trims, accents like pearls, lace, buttons, studs, sequins, etc. with some other neutral/color-blocking (with white, beige, grey, animal prints) thrown in there.

Hope this was helpful xx

#femmefatalevibe #femme fatale #personal style #personal branding #cult of personality #fashion and beauty #vegan fashion #fashion #styleinspiration #style guide #women style #fashion brands #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #it girl #that girl #classy life #high class #elegance #elegant fashion #edgy fashion #parisianstyle #high value woman #the feminine urge #female excellence #female power #queen energy #dream girl #parisian #parisian style

[whollyhapa]

Mutant--A Namor Fanfiction Ch. 4

Christ, does this feel unnecessary.

Shuri’s attendants did a number on you. From the heavy bands wrapping your biceps and ankles, to the gold ring curled around your bottom lip, to the swaths of shimmery fabric snaking tightly around your body, to the jeweled sandals clasped snug around your ankles—you can’t decide which part of the outfit you resent more. They couldn’t even leave you your hair—you normally throw the top half up in a topknot, but now it’s down completely, shampooed and brushed and glistening down your back, with two tiny braids trailing down your temples.

You scowl and turn around in the mirror for the fifth time. The white dress is too tight, too gaudy, too exposing along your thighs. The jewelry sits too heavy on your skin. The only thing you can’t seem to form an opinion about are the elegant gold and black braces that wrap around the base of your wings and creep like meshed webbing up your scapular and covert feathers. It had taken some convincing, but the queen’s evil fashion attendants had assured you that the 3D printed vibranium design still allowed for flight, at least. You flap your wings experimentally.

You feel like the competition’s finest show poodle.

And you really, really need to take a moment for some self evaluation. How on God’s green fucking earth did you wind up here again? Now you remembered—you’re about to reencounter the same underwater king that had breached an accord to drag you from a peaceful drowning, and it’s the same man you’re about to strive to avoid for an entire day.

You think about the time you could be spending today testing your wings again, touching clouds again, and you bristle.

—-------------------------------------------------

You’re still seething as you pop a candied grape in your mouth two hours later, crunching slowly as you ponder how you possibly let yourself land in this situation.

You’re several hours late to the banquet; introductions and grand entrances are over already, the food’s been whisked away, and multilingual chatter fills the great hall you stand in. A giant Wakandan flag drapes proudly from the ceiling, decorated with glittering strings of pearls and sea netting. Tall curved windows arc over either side of the giant hall to shed ample light over the scene, and you feel like an ant in a bubble.

You haven’t moved from your shadowy corner nestled to the far right of the hall’s only entrance. Scanning the crowd for a hulking bronze god, you realize you can’t see many people from this angle, but honestly the less people can see you the better.

You crunch down on another grape as your eyes follow a blue figure wearing peculiar guards filled with water over her mouth and traps. A Talokanian. You should be more startled by the fishperson, but you think the freakishness you’ve seen in the pits of Serbia’s black-market science stifles your awe.

You pop the final grape in your mouth. God, they’re really blue, though.

The Talokanian turns suddenly and catches you staring, but instead of looking away, you hold her gaze—and you behold each other for a moment, like neither one of you can decide which of you looks weirder. The Talokanian is the first to lose the staring competition, and she turns and slips back into the crowd of textiles and dresses.

You think you’ve just been compromised.

Still, an hour passes uneventfully, with no sight of Namor. Eventually a group of elegantly dressed performers, some holding large drums, files into the banquet hall and starts setting up the instruments near your little alcove of shadow. You take the opportunity to slip along the wall toward the opposite end of the hall’s doors, where a wide stretch of balcony doors are swung open to let in the waning afternoon sun.

You breathe easier once you’re outside. Orange clouds drift high above a stunning, stretching view of the city below. You lean your stomach against the balcony railing, breathing deeply. The sky plus the peculiar architecture makes for an otherworldly scene, and as you watch two distant birds swoop and dive together over the horizon, fantasies of flight tonight over this magnificent city capture your mind again. So much so, you forget your crucial vigilance for a moment—and it costs you.

“Do they not let you fly, in Alada ?” rumbles a thick voice approximately three fucking feet right behind you.

You whirl around instantly, punching out a curse. Sneak attacks were something you carried out, not something that ever happened to you. “Jesus, you’re quiet,” you hiss at Namor.

You have to crane your neck to look up at the king. If you thought the man was flashy the first time you saw him, what he wears now is sensationally fucking opulent. An elegantly patterned loincloth drapes from his hips below a thick golden belt. Even more bejeweled armor wraps his arms and shins. Wide bands of metal and pearls connect the tapered gold pauldrons resting on either of his shoulders. A shoulder cape of thick ornate fabric sweeps across his chest and drapes down his back, and the headdress he dons is nothing short of spectacular—all feathers and stones crowning out of the head of a golden serpent that encompasses his strong features on all sides. You have to search the shadows of his face to find his eyes.

And there it is. That mile-long relentless amber stare boring directly through your pupils and into the back of your skull. He looks at you like he’s halfway between curiosity and a desire to eat you alive.

He repeats the question. “Does the queen not let you fly?”

You press your wings against the balcony railing and squint at him, deciding to give him some truth. You can’t tell him Shuri is very possibly using you as a political pawn in the upkeep of an alliance, but what can you say? The man is intriguing.

“I can, starting today. Queen rules.”

“Queen rules,” Namor echoes, nodding solemnly. You watch as he raises his right hand up to his face to take a bite of the whole unpeeled mango resting in his fist; it looks miniature in his large slender fingers. He chews for a moment, then closes his eyes and swallows. “I still resent the surface world. All that it stands to destroy.” His eyes open and train on you. “But the fruit of your lands? Sublime. It tastes forbidden.”

You shift on your feet, wondering how the hell to respond to a comment like that, when Namor gestures with a sticky hand behind you. “Your wings. The metal. They look…regal. You will fly today?”

Turning your head to gaze out at the tangerine sky again, you give an affirmative nod. You look back at him as he takes another bite, then down to his sandaled feet. Deciding to venture into reluctantly-polite conversation, you let loose a question. “Do your wings grant you flight? They’re…” you trail off, losing the non-offensive word on your tongue.

Namor flashes a short grin, and as he looks down at his ankles you let yourself relax marginally. “Not quite as big as yours, next to each other now,” he admits. “But yes. They are strong. They help to balance in flight.” His eyes flick back to yours once more—like if he tears his gaze away for too long you might disappear. “Perhaps we will fly together.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile while you weigh the notion in your mind. Flying, flying alone, gave you a personal high unmatched by any drug on earth—and your body unwillingly knows a few. To share the skies with someone else, to coast a wind current alongside another? Nothing short of intimacy—and suddenly this guy seems all-too intrusive again.

“Perhaps,” is all you softly say. This time you hold the eye contact.

Namor must sense the way your eyes have shifted. Or the way you square your shoulders. Or the way you press your wings tighter to your body. Because the bastard furrows his brows and looks directly back at you as he brings his arm up again, parts his mouth, and licks a long stripe up his forearm, collecting the sweet juice spilling down his elbow. You flick your eyes away from his tongue and swallow.

What the fuck?

“Perhaps tonight,” Namor adds, his register low and in the back of his throat. Now you feel heat creeping up your spine, spreading through your winged appendages and shooting up your neck and face. It’s a weird sensation, but it feels closest to rage, so you run with that.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. It’s just pleasantries,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

Distant cheering and whooping picks up back in the great hall’s interior, and the powerful beat of drums suddenly fills your ears. Even from this distance it vibrates beneath your feet, and you’re briefly thankful for the way the fast cadence masks the thrumming of your heart. It still doesn’t distract enough from the ongoing chokehold of a stare Namor is still fixing on you.

“Wakanda has granted Talokan’s nobility three days to roam its lands in peace, in alada.” Namor speaks slowly, raising his voice over the rhythmic pounding of drums. “You won’t get rid of me so swiftly. Our kind…our kind is isolated. Forsaken.” He tilts his head back, feathers gliding with the headdress as he looks to the heavens, then back down to you.

“I hope to find you in the skies tonight.”

With another low bow, Namor turns and strides away, back towards the stretch of balcony doors. His shoulder cape billows, gliding behind him. The same blue warrior, the one you had a staring match with, waits for him silently at the nearest open entrance; and when he reaches her, they disappear behind the reflection of the glass and into the rhythmic fray inside the hall.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, then shake your wings out of frustration. Something about your second interaction mirrors your first, in the same unsettling, unnerving feeling it leaves you stewing in, deep in your gut. How have you faced relentless torment from such poor excuses for human beings, and yet no living thing has managed to crawl under your skin like this spandexed Hermes?

You think you’ve had enough pleasantries for the evening. That interaction should meet Shuri’s talk-to-a-king quota tonight, right? You hustle off the balcony and once again slip along the sides of the wall to the exit, and as your legs hurriedly transport you back to the privacy of your quarters, you crave a clear sky now more than ever.

I hope to find you in the skies tonight.

Oh, you’ll test your wings again tonight. And leave the man from the Atlantic fluttering in your dust.

#Namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #eventual smut #smut inbound in the next few ch #wakanda forever spoilers #namor x ofc #Namor #namor of talokan

[maysoulrose]

The Thief and The Moon chpt 1

You guys i’m doing it. I’ve been writing a fanfic about one of my skyrim oc’s and her relationship with Brynjolf because i’m a sucker for the man. I posted the first chapter on Fanfic . net if you’d rather read it there, but I’mma try and post here too!!!!!!!!!!! I finally finished enough chapters to where I feel like it could be at a stopping point, in case I take a long break or something, so here they come! I’ll try to link each chapter on every post for convenience sake!

here’s my story on the website of the fiction : @ maysoulrose

ALSO this whole thing started because I stumbled upon THIS STORY ABOUT FARKAS AND I’M DYING. it really inspired me to write my own.

it’s freaking steamy as HECK so get your eyeballs READY.

Chapter 1

“Pay up.” Brynjolf held out his hand in anticipation. The two guards at the front gate of Riften eyed each other. Bashfully, the one on the left scratched the back of his head before confessing.

“Sorry Brynjolf, the only person who came through today saw right past our scheme… and…”

“She scared the pants off of us!!!” the other guard burst out. Brynjolf gave his eyebrow a good raise.

“Really?” He folded his arms in thought.  “What did this person look like?” 

“Terrifying” The guard on the right said, followed by a smack on the back of the head by the other.

“He wants physical features, dimwit.”

“Oh. uh…” He collected his thoughts for a moment. “Tall, really long hair, like, super long. Dark elf… I… I think.” 

“... Fine.  But I expect payment later. Don’t mess the next one up.” Brynjolf jabbed the closest guard in the shoulder.

“Yessir” the two say in unison. Brynjolf swings open the giant gate and enters the city. 

It was just past midday. The market was gathering the usual attendees. Brynjolf scoured the crowd. No sign of this mysterious Dark elf. He had been meaning to find a new recruit or two for the guild and since she caught his little shake down, maybe this elf would be a good fit. She’s probably still here in the city since the guards hadn’t seen her leave. 

“Better take my usual spot at the snake oil counter and see if she shows.” He muttered to himself. He adjusted the quilted fine hat that sat atop his head and straightened out the matching tunic.  He felt a little uncomfortable in the getup he wore, for his merchant ploy to lure In a possible victim- I mean… Customer.. But it helped with the whole … ‘outfit.’

He leaned his hips against his booth and took in the crowd. Grelka was her usual angry self. Marise was over there, chiming about her crispy carrots.  Brand-Shei…  just waiting to be framed. 

“Where’s my little guinea pig…” he whispered. Balimund was working away at the forge. That one fisherman walked by, who definitely was having secret love affairs. He scoffed at the thought, then glanced back over toward the front gate.

An unfamiliar figure was making their way across the bridge and over the canal. That had to be her. Probably just coming from a visit to the town alchemist. 

Brynjolf ran through his mental list of introductions and tried to pick the best one for her as she approached the market. 

"Here we go."

His eyes traced her form from head to toe. She had a fur hood and covered most of her face with a scarf. A pouch of coin strapped around her waist. She definitely wasn’t afraid of showing a little skin. She wore a set of fur armor. Bare shoulders and arms with a thin strip of fur across her chest. Her hips draped with assorted pelts and skins. 

He continued his gaze downward… Through the fabric shifting as she walked,  Brynjolf got a glimpse of a dagger strapped to the inside of her thigh. Already promising to fit in with his crowd. 

The woman pulled back her hood, revealing a fountain of white hair, cascading down her chest and past her hips. A very small hint of purple shimmered off the waves when the sun hit it just right. 

“Wow. They weren’t kidding.” Brynjolf recalled the guard’s description of her. She then tugs on her scarf and tucks it under her chin. Brynjolf felt his heart twinge with excitement. 

She was beautiful. The closer she got, the more he felt himself entranced by her. She was elegant in the way she held herself. She was tall, and all of her features seemed to be just a bit longer than your average passer by.  Her skin is on the lighter side, for a dark elf, and a bit warm in tone. Almost purple, rather than gray.   A hint of pink revealed itself on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her skin seemed to have a velvet texture that shimmered like glitter. As if a diamond was crushed into pure dust and was sprinkled all across it.

By the time he realized he was gawking at her, she had caught his eyes. Hers were white, with only a hint of a pupil if you looked closely. Brynjolf snapped his jaw shut and approached her. 

"So… you're the little lady that sniffed out my scheme at the front gate."

The elf stopped in front of him; he had her full attention. 

It's a good thing he was skilled in the art of speech otherwise her otherworldly eyes might've made him stutter. 

"I admire how you were able to catch that shakedown, and even more with how you handled the situation."  He continued. "How about doing a little job for me, eh? Should be easy for a Lass like you." He paused for a moment, but she just kept her eyes on him. White lashes lining her lids. 

"... not much of a talker, I see." He clears his throat. "I have a bit of an errand to run, But need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, that extra pair of hands always gets paid. Handsomely." He waited for a response. 

She shifted her weight to the other side, extending out her leg slightly, and folding her arms. 

"I'm listening." Her voice was smooth and low, almost a whisper.  Brynjolf grinned at her response. 

"See that argonian over there?"

————————————————

"EVERYONE, EVERYONE!" Brynjolf stood at his makeshift booth, waving his arms. "Please! Gather 'round. I have an AMAZING new product." 

Everyone in the market groaned and shuffled over to him.

"What is it this time?" Brand Shei huffed.  Murmurs and eye rolls were plentiful among the onlookers. 

The mysterious elf watched the crowd and disappeared into it the moment everyone had their attention on the presentation. Quite literally it seemed. One moment Brynjolf was giving her the nod of approval, the next it was as If she never existed.

She slipped away, disappearing into wisps of shadowy smoke. The Argonian had left his booth, just as Brynjolf had planned. She tackled the lock of his cabinet and the Strongbox within. As expected, there lies a silver ring. Swiping the piece of fine jewelry, and softly closing the cabinet behind her, She made her way to Brand-Shei. 

The dunmer had sat his rump on a pile of crates next to a couple of barrels.  She reached an arm between two of them, just behind his back, and slipped the ring into one of his pouches.

Brynjolf continued on about his new "limb growing serum". He scanned the crowd, and almost jumped when he saw those moonlit eyes staring right at him, as if she had never left.

"Uh, that's all from me for today! Please! 20 gold per bottle. It'll change your life!" He shook around the tall potion container, appealingly. 

Once the crowd dispersed, he jumped down from his platform and approached the mystery woman. 

"Done without a hitch! You continue to impress.. Here's your share." He handed her a small pouch of gold, holding about 200 septims. She took the bag and dumped the contents into the satchel already on her hip.           

Just a few paces behind them, sounds of a guard promptly arresting Brand-Shei for the planted ring filled the air. Brynjolf took a step closer to the lady elf and lowered his voice. 

"Listen, if you're interested in doing more jobs like this, come meet me in the ratway. Just a test to see if you really have what it takes. We could use somebody with your skills." He smirks at her. 

She ponders the invitation for a moment and shuffles around her freshly filled coin purse. 

"Sounds like a deal~" flashing him a smile. 

Brynjolf exhaled a breath of relief. He was really hoping she'd say yes.

"Good on ya. Do you have a name?" He asks. It takes her a moment to respond, like she's considering if she should trust him with it.

"... Allustria." She whispers with her alluring voice. Brynjolf smiles.

"Fitting"

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7

read it on the fanfiction site

#brynjolf #skyrim fanfiction #brynjolf x dragonborn #elder scrolls #romance #elder scrolls skyrim #dark elf #the thief and the moon #fanfic #my stories #my ocs

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

John (the Apostle) | Better Together | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “I fear that I’m not good enough for you.”

Requested: Yes

A misunderstanding has John take his distance from you. When you confront him about it, you find out that there is something deeper to it.

Melodic, familiar laughter streams from the house when John returns at last, scratching dirt from under his nails. He drops the slightly damp nets right outside against the wall whilst James enters the kitchen before him, something he isn’t necessarily content with.

“Hi James!” he hears your voice from inside, greeting him as you make lunch with their mother, “How are you?”

“Hello (Y/n), good to see you again. We’re doing well.” As if he’s speaking for his little brother as well, John bitterly thinks to himself, heading inside to find you with a beaming smile that makes his heart race. “How about yourself?”

You eye John and you give him a friendly nod as a greeting. “I’m doing great, thank you for asking, James. And hello to you too, John.”

He gives you a wry smile and moves to the small bowl of water in the doorframe to wash his feet. 

“How was your fishing trip?” Salome wants to know. 

“It went splendidly,” James reveals before John can even open his mouth to speak. In slight dejection, he watches how your eyes light up. 

“Wonderful!” you muse, “That way, you can finally save up for the repairs on your boat, hm? Oh, where are my manners, you guys must be starving.”

Salome smiles whilst her sons sit down at the table positively hungry whilst you bring them both a bowl of lentil soup. John slightly startles when your hand brushes against his in the process, his stomach swirling with those same butterflies he had been mustering towards you since early childhood.

Not that he’d ever act on his feelings towards you. Not when he could see the way James looked at you.

“It smells amazing, thank you, (Y/n).” James tells you with a wink, making you blush slightly. You curtsy and nod at him.

“You’re very welcome, James.” 

They pray for the food whilst you and Salome clean up in the kitchen before grabbing bowls of soup for yourselves. Zebedee is still out of the house for business, so you set a serving apart for him. 

You take the seat next to James, diagonally across from John, whose throat is too tight to properly eat right now. Even though his affection towards you had been there for a long time, it recently turns him slightly jealous whenever you interact with his brother.

After your own prayer, you blow some air into your food to cool it down before taking a bite. James pries something from between his teeth with his tongue before speaking up. “Ah, (Y/n), would you like some extra bits of mutton in there?” He already lifts his bowls to offer some of the small meat chunks, but you shake your head. 

“I’m good Jay, thank you.” The nickname makes John’s knuckles tighten around the spoon in his hand. “You’ve been working hard, you need the energy. You’ve got to maintain the strength in your muscles, hm?”

He chuckles and flexes his arm to show off his bicep, which makes you laugh in turn. John forces a smile although his gut clenches unpleasantly. Salome clicks her tongue and laughs, flicking her older son’s arm playfully. 

You eat in silence for another minute before you speak up. “How have you been, John?” your gentle voice queries and he swallows his bite of soup, almost choking on it. He coughs in his fist after turning away and clears his throat before gathering the courage to reply. 

“I-I’m doing good. Thank you.”

“Good,” you breathe. “I was wondering, would you like to visit market with me? I need to get myself some new fabrics, so I’ll need someone to assist me carrying it home.”

John stares at you for a second, letting his eyes go to his brother and then to you again. “Why don’t you ask James? He’s stronger than I am.”

You smile slightly. “Well, I would like it if you came along. It’s not that heavy anyway, so I’m sure you can handle it.” 

James raises an eyebrow at you, resting his chin on his hand. “If my little brother thinks he is too weak, I don’t mind helping you out. He should know that if a lady asks for your aid, you shouldn’t refuse.” 

You giggle and swat his arm. “Tsk, Jay, I’m hardly a lady.”

Salome starts cleaning up the empty bowls whilst James looks at John. “You should be more proactive, little brother. How else are you going to maintain friendships?”

The words land bitterly. John shoves away his half-empty bowl and lets out a sound of indignation. “Who are you to tell me what to do and what not to do, James?”

His older brother shows his palms in defence, frowning. “Hey, no need to be offended, I was just saying–”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t say anything sometimes.” John snaps back. 

A pregnant silence fills the room. All eyes are focused on the younger brother now, who stands up from his seat. 

It isn’t often that he bickers with James to this extent, let alone perform an attack on his character in the presence of the girl he has liked for a long time. 

“John, it’s alright, if you don’t want to go I will not think any differently of you.” The kindness behind your eyes makes his heart drop to his gut – despite his agitation, you maintain your sweet nature, something that gets his head spinning.

“I-I’m going to get some fresh air.” John stutters, rushing out of the house, leaving you behind in confusion. 

“What was that about?” you ask aloud after a beat of silence. 

“I’ve got no idea.” James huffs. “He is just being John, I suppose.”

You give a small shake of your head. “That behaviour isn’t John at all.”

Salome slightly tilts her head. “I’ve got an inkling of what has him act in that way.” she muses with a knowing smirk, but shakes her head when you and James give her an expectant look. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourselves. Both you two and John are old enough to solve your own problems.”

Even though Salome is correct, you are still worried. 

“So, need me to go with you, then?” James quizzes. With a soft sigh and slight disappointment tugging at your heart, you smile and nod, grateful for the offer despite the fact that you’d rather spent some time with the younger of the two.

_ 

John chews on his nails whilst observing you and James browse the market from a distance. It’s a nervous habit he’s picked up on ever since developing this strange sense of envy whenever witnessing you interact with his big brother and how easily he seems to be able to make you laugh or blush. Like right now, how you cackle at the way James parades around with a large piece of fabric draped over his shoulder, pretending to be a Roman senator. 

“Are you going to buy it or what?” the vendor asks, slightly irritated by James’ antics. 

“Ah, yes, of course,” you tell him, quickly taking out your pouch of money to pay for a few cubits of the linen. After rolling it up, James hauls it over his neck, pretending it to be a scarf, which once again makes you laugh. You hook your hand into the crook of James’ arm, apparently very amused by John’s older brother.

John huffs and turns away, shaking his head slightly. How could he have so stupidly refused your offer to go with you to market? Now, James was the one who was making you giggle, having you touch his arm, the reason for that beautiful flush on your cheeks.

His own hesitation annoys John till no end. He steps down the street with large strides, kicking a rock away in front of him. 

Should he be worried about James asking for your hand soon? Should he take action before you are taken away from him forever to become his very sister-in-law, always so close yet so far away? Is he too late already?

He heads down to the shore to find their vessel in need of repair, sitting down on the edge of it to take in the sight. Fear tugs at his heart. The idea that he’d have to go on fishing trips together with his older brother for the rest of his life fills him with immense dread. The endless stories James will tell about you. The eventual children that will come from your marriage. The knowledge that John will never have a chance anymore to call you his girl. 

Tears sting behind his eyes. You have known one another your entire lives and he had nevered gathered enough courage to approach you about how he feels. 

And then there is James – his older, taller, more handsome brother, who can provide for you properly, and besides, you two look so happy together. It is infuriating and heartbreaking at the same time.

John sighs, staring out over the lake. What purpose is there for him in life other than this fishing business? It makes him feel like a third wheel in his own family – Zebedee and Salome have one another, you and James will become a couple, and then there’s just him . He doubts that he’ll ever love anyone more than that he loves you–

“John?” 

Upon hearing your voice behind him, he gasps. He pivots to look over his shoulder, seeing your gentle expression beam back at him. “Are you alright?”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods. “I am, thank you for asking.”

“You don’t seem okay.” you say, heading over to sit next to him on the edge of the boat. “What’s going on?”

“Where is James?” he evades your question with another. 

Your eyes slightly narrow. “He’s taking the fabrics home and suggested I’d go and find you.”

John shrugs and gives you an indifferent look. “Well, you found me. You can go back home now, I’m sure that James wants to spend more time with you.”

Shaking your head slowly, you watch him curiously. “John, what is going on?”

“Nothing.” he immediately says in a tone that is way too defensive. He sighs, closing his eyes, “It’s nothing.”

“You don’t seem like there’s nothing going on.” you tell him, “But fine, I will not pressure you into telling me. Just know that I’d appreciate it if you opened up to me about it, because it surely seems like it has something to do with me and James.”

John lets his eyes fall to the shore, hands resting in his lap awkwardly. 

“I just hope you’re happy together.”

You squint, brow knitting together. “Huh? What are you on about–”

“It’s obvious that he likes you.” John bitterly states, “And you like him too, with the way you touch his arm and laugh at his jokes all the time.”

“We’re friends, John.” you immediately counter. “What makes you think that there’s anything more than that?”

He exhales shakily and turns his face away from you. “Because you two seem so close. And I wouldn’t blame you. My brother is strong, he’s assertive and handsome, and he is funny, too. He can provide for you and your future family, and he’s just… He’s better than I am.”

Putting a hand on his arm, you shift closer to John. His eyes shoot to it, his entire form tensing up at the contact. “John, what on Earth are you talking about? What makes you think that I’d be interested in…” Your voice trails off when John looks at you, curls dancing in the gentle wind. 

“I fear that I’m not good enough for you.” he honestly admits, sorrow visible behind his eyes. You catch his gaze and feel your heart tighten inside your chest, your breath hitching. “I-I’ve liked you for a long time, (Y/n), but I know that I’m not half the man that James could ever be for you, because he’s taller than me, and he’s—”

“Shut up.” you tell him strongly, causing him to look up at you in slight shock. “I love you, John, but stop spewing that nonsense.” 

“You love–”

“What makes you even think that I’d pick James over you? You’re wonderful, John, and sweet, handsome, passionate and intelligent, even though you can be a tease, but you are so beautiful in your own way.”

His throat runs dry at your confession. “You love me?” he whispers, voice too weak to sound confident. 

“Yes, silly,” you tell him with a soft laugh, “Why do you think I specifically asked you to go to the market with me?”

“But–But James likes you, too!”

“Who says that I like James in that way? I’m sorry to hurt his feelings, but I cannot lie to him, for my heart is with you.” You lean closer to him, softly smiling. “ Always .”

John can barely believe his ears and blushes at your proximity, a sudden wave of determination surging through him. He wraps you into an embrace which you gladly accept, burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Thank you for your honesty,” you whisper, “I was so afraid that you didn’t like me as a friend anymore, because… You know…”

“I’m sorry for walking away and rejecting your offer to go to market,” he replies, “I just didn’t know how to properly deal with these confusing feelings, but all I know now is that I am very content.”

“Me, too.” you tell him. 

He pulls away from the hug and smiles at you sweetly. “I… Your parents, are they able to receive me soon? I need to… To ask for… You know.” John takes your hand and softly kisses the back of it, causing your cheeks to turn hot.

You nod eagerly, putting your arms around him again. “Yes, John, of course. I didn’t know you were that serious about me, but I’m glad.”

Laughing lightly, John gently caresses your back, holding you close.

“Of course, (Y/n), I have been serious about you for a very long time.”

#john the apostle x you #john the apostle x reader #john the apostle #the chosen #reader insert #fanfiction #chosen fanfiction #chosen x reader #the chosen x reader

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Bill Day

* * * *

Wow! You can’t make this up!

March 21, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

It’s hard to believe that the dysfunction in the Republican Party could get worse, but Wednesday saw new heights (or depths?) of chaos in the GOP. You are undoubtedly interested in hearing how the GOP impeachment hearing directed at Joe Biden produced damning evidence—against Donald Trump! But first, let’s look away from the GOP car crash to view the important work that President Biden is doing on behalf of the American people. (You’re welcome!)

As Trump and the GOP were entering panic mode at warp speed, President Biden was delivering on his promises to the American people. The Biden administration began the day by announcing a rule that would accelerate the production of hybrid and all-electric cars. See NYTimes, Biden Administration Announces Rule Aimed at Expanding Electric Vehicles. (This article is accessible to all.)

Per the NYTimes,

The Biden administration on Wednesday issued one of the most significant climate regulations in the nation’s history, a rule designed to ensure that the majority of new passenger cars and light trucks sold in the United States are all-electric or hybrids by 2032. Nearly three years in the making, the new tailpipe pollution limits from the Environmental Protection Agency would transform the American automobile market.

Accelerating the transition to hybrid and electric cars will deliver enormous economic and health benefits to the American people. Again, per the Times, the new regulation will

avoid more than seven billion tons of carbon dioxide emissions over the next 30 years . . . That’s the equivalent of removing a year’s worth of all the greenhouse gases generated by the United States . . . . The regulation would provide nearly $100 billion in annual net benefits to society [including] $13 billion of annual public health benefits thanks to improved air quality. The standards would also save the average American driver about $6,000 in reduced fuel and maintenance over the life of a vehicle, the E.P.A. estimated.

As the new “tailpipe emissions” standard was being announced, President Biden announced a massive investment in an Intel chip fabricating facility in Arizona. See Politico, Biden boosts Intel with massive CHIPS payout in swing state Arizona.

Per Politico, Biden said

“We will enable advanced semiconductor manufacturing to make a comeback here in America after 40 years. It’s going to transform the semiconductor industry and create entirely new ecosystems.” Biden said Intel would also invest “over $100 billion” across the country, in facilities in Arizona, Oregon, Ohio and New Mexico. Those investments should put the U.S. on track to produce roughly 20 percent of the world’s leading-edge chips by 2030, Biden said. He added that Intel’s new projects are expected to create 30,000 jobs nationwide in construction and manufacturing.

Beyond creating tens of thousands of jobs in the high-tech sector, the CHIPS and Science Act protects US national security. Recall that during the COVID pandemic, supply chain issues disrupted the flow of semiconductors into the US, hampering the manufacture and sale of hundreds of consumer products that rely on microprocessors. Manufacturing the chips in the US serves as a hedge against that future risk.

For most presidents, the Intel announcement and new tailpipe admissions standard would be the year's crowning achievements. For Joe Biden, those announcements were known as “Wednesday.” Biden gets stuff done. Tell a friend.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

#Robert B. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #CHIPS #semiconductor manufacturing #jobs #CHIPS and Science act #Biden Administration #getting things done

[ask-de-writer]

SEE STORY (Part 4 of 5) A tale from the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

See Story

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat​

14372 words

copyright 2023

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may   reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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Sea is a colony assumed lost somewhat over a thousand years before this tale opens.  They were sent on a one way trip, not knowing that there was no land at all on the whole world of Sea.  Thus, aside from humans, NO CREATURE OF SEA IS IN ANY WAY ITS NAMESAKE.  They were simply named for a superficial resemblance to some Earthly creature by the early colonists.

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New to SEE STORY?  Read from the beginning HERE.

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The next morning brought the unusual sight, first of mast tops, then later the masts and yards bare of sail, and the massed hulls of the many ships riding at anchorage.  The only sails visible belonged to the many small boats plying between the ships and the giant rafts that made up the Gathering marketplace.  Sails visible on the horizon told of a few other ships slow to come, but like the Longin, not late.  The Longin was assigned to an anchored float, where she tied up.  The Grandalor could be seen riding at her float some ways off.  

Two large ship construction rafts had been lashed together near the center of the Gathering.  These monsters were nearly four hundred feet by two hundred feet.  They were the dull yellow-grey of untinted, glued Strong Skin.  They floated, decks about six feet above the waves on six long pontoons each.  They  majestically ignored the small surface waves entirely, rising and falling gently to the long, deep waves. The rafts were designed to build new ships on and to serve as a market square and place for ceremonies, like marriages. On them was the only city that anyone in the Naral Fleet had ever seen.  It was a mass of tents in all sizes and shapes, in every hue of natural or bleached mussel fabric.

Captain Mord asked Cat, “Will you come with me to the Gathering Council? We must present ourselves and formally announce the Longin’s presence to get permission to trade and conduct our other business.”

“Captain, I will gladly go with you.  I need to gather a few things first.  They should be ready now.”   Quickly, she was back with a net bag containing a number of carefully wrapped things.

As Cat was putting her back into the oars, along with three other crewmen, First Officer Alys looked curiously at Cat’s bag.  “What is in there, Cat?  It looks like there are, perhaps, some lobsters?”

“It is a bag of politics.  You will see.”

The Captain’s gig pulled up to the market platform.  They secured the boat and all got out.  The Captain, First Officer and Cat, with her bag, went to the Council Pavilion.  Cat stood back while Captain Mord and First Officer Alys presented themselves to the Council.

“To the Council of the Spring Gathering, we bring the greetings of the Longin, moored this morning. We seek permission to trade and conduct other ship’s business,” intoned Captain Mord, formally.

“Be welcome, Longin.  Conduct your trade in honor, and your ship’s business likewise,” said the Chief of the Council.

Captain Mord bristled at the veiled warning, insulting as it did the reputation of both himself and his ship, “Since when has the Longin needed to be cautioned about honorable trade and business?  I demand a private hearing to know the reason for this dishonor. I can think of many others, some in this pavilion, who owe us more than favors.”

“We have more than an hour before the next ship can present its business,” said the Council Chief.  “Let us use it.  The Longin has the right to know what has transpired and to defend their honor and rights.” All agreed to that, and the group withdrew to a partitioned area of the Council Pavilion.

Once the flaps were drawn, Mord turned to them in genuine anger and bewilderment.

“What can have happened to tarnish the reputation of the Longin to the extent that we needed a public warning to trade fairly?  We have always been openhanded and tried never to take unfair advantage, unless we were first victimized by someone that we have helped.  

“In at least one case,” he looked pointedly at Captain Hored, to the right of the Council Chief, “the very existence of your ship is our doing.  Three Gatherings have come and gone with no payment forthcoming.  Shall I then demand it in full?  By Law, I can do so. If I were Barad, it would have been done.  Your ship and all its goods could be forfeit to the Longin, your crew scattered, and you caution us about honor?  When you exist as a ship only because of ours?”

Hored raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow.  “This is not entirely our doing.  The Grandalor came early yesterday.  Barad told us that you had secretly gone north to the Dragon Sea and also that you were going to try to arrange a match for the Lady of Your Luck.  

“He said that you had kept secret that she is helpless, blind, and named for a Dragon.  No ship will take on such a person.  If her name is changed, and you pay a large sum for her upkeep, another ship might be found to take the risk of her.”  He crossed his arms over his chest as if he had pronounced a sentence.

Mord’s retort shot to the heart of whose honor was truly being tested.  “Ask Barad then, and publicly, how he happened to come across us in the Dragon Sea!  Ask him too, if he says coincidence, whose bare topmasts our lookouts watched for over a week, shadowing us to the south, before he came up to us … from the SOUTH?”

Cat touched Captain Mord’s sleeve.  “May I speak, as this also concerns me?”

Suddenly smiling at the thought of these strong Captains running onto the reef of his foster sister’s logic and uncanny knowledge, Captain Mord said, “In all fairness, perhaps you should hear out the person that you malign.  Cat, this is …”

“Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton. Leader of this Spring Council.  A careful seaman who rarely takes chances and only once has broken the Great Laws.  All that I know of him is good.  

“To his right is Captain Hored, of the Grython.  He should remember me.  He too has broken the Great Law once.  Sometime, ask my Captain how we knew to look for you, and where.

“To his left is Captain Merced, of the Dolthin.  He also has once broken the Great Law and fishes by deep bottom dragging.  I think it an unwise practice.  They have near come to grief twice this month alone, when nets fouled.”

“I know them.  They should know me.  They call me the Lady of the Longin’s Luck, and other sidesteps to avoid the possible bad luck that might come from my full name.  My name, Gentlemen, dictated by both Custom and Fleet Law, is Mecat.  Ask the Longin, now the most prosperous ship of your fleet, how much ill luck I have brought them.”

“By what right do you, a crew-woman, accuse us of violating the Great Law?”

“Captain Sarfin, you have made a grave error.  I am not a member of the crew of the Longin or any other ship.  To ward off the ill luck that might come with my name, I have never been enrolled in the Longin’s crew.

“The Great Law that you all have broken is the Law of Slavery.  The law reads ‘no price may go with any exchange of persons between ships, or the person over whom the price is demanded is considered to be a slave.  All slavery is outlawed as also the slaver and the purchaser.’  By demanding that payment go with me you outlaw yourselves and both of the ships in the exchange.”

The Council representatives looked at each other uneasily.  They had not thought of this.  The notion of payment had been Barad’s, and seemed reasonable at the time.  Now they had a dilemma.  Looking at her curiously they asked, “If we lift the payment, then no ship will take you.  Where will you go?”

Cat looked to Captain Mord.  He spoke, “She has told me that the matter is arranged for already.  I believe her.”

“There is still the fact of your helplessness due to blindness.  What could you do … besides ‘bring the ship luck?’”

“Ask Captain Hored.  He as reason to know my skills.”

Sarfin turned to Hored, “What does she mean by that?”

Hored looked at the deck and seemed to shrink.  “Between three and four Gatherings back, the Grython grounded on a tropic reef.  We took a six foot gash to the hull, which made it impossible to leave the reef without sinking entire.  The stone of it was all that held us up.  We were preparing to abandon ship when the Longin arrived unlooked for.  

“I did not know her from Captain Barad’s description, but I would know that voice anywhere. She is the only reason that the Grython is still afloat.  Her skilled diving and the divers that she directed repaired the Grython.  That is why we owe the Longin so much …”

He scowled, “We have been lied to!  Blind she may be but helpless she’s not!  Lift the price! Grython will take her and glad of it, if we get the chance.”

Cat smiled at Hored, “I thank you for a generous offer from a good heart but the matter is already arranged.  I will make my groom known on the night of the Full Moons.

��What else can I do?  Ask any of the Craft Masters of the Longin.  They will tell you the truth of my skills.  I also read, write, keep accounts and navigate.”

“Eyes are needed for those boasts.  You have none,” stated Captain Barad, walking in through the flaps behind them, and stumbling on a stool in the shade of the pavilion.  Captain Mord looked back pointedly at the stool and said nothing.

“I have come,” said Captain Barad, “reiterate my claim to certain waters in the Dragon Sea.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked smug.

Cat turned angrily, “You followed us!  The find is ours!  We … ” she trailed off as Captain Mord’s hand was laid in caution on her shoulder.

“Cat, the full Council will meet in only two hours.  That is the proper forum for this dispute. Now is the time for food.  Sarfin, Hored, Merced, will you join us?”

Cat was laying out the contents of her packages.  The plates were large, flatish pearl shells with small shells glued under to level them.  Cups were nautilus shell, and there was a platter of tinted, glue hardened Strong Skin, inlaid with a scene of fish and seaweed done in shell nacre of many hues. It was piled with large lobsters, steamed clams, and shrimp, garnished with tasty seaweeds.  There was a flagon of pure water to drink.

“This feast is worth a fortune! Where did you find all those shellfish?” asked Merced as he pulled his stool up to the feast.

Barad could only stand and stare goggle-eyed as the others dug into the food, cracking shells and scooping out clams.

Mord winked at Cat.  “Oh, up north of here.  These are just some we grabbed out of the cargo vat to steam for lunch.  This is what we have for trade, this voyage.  We would have had much more, but the Grandalor was following us by stealth.  We had to hide our operation from them.”

“Did you let them know that you were aware of their presence?” asked Sarfin.

“We allowed them to come to us, when they were running out of time.  Captain Barad asked our ship’s business and was rebuffed.  He was rude.  He insulted Cat and called her helpless.  She proved to him that she was not, and now we find that he has spread lies about her and our ‘profitless’ voyage,” Mord said thoughtfully, sucking the meat out of a lobster claw.  “I think that we will do well.  What do you think?”

“I think that you will do well, this Gathering.  You have already found that Barad has laid nets to snare your claim to fishing waters in the Dragon Sea,” said Hored.  “I suspect that his claim is the place where you fished for these.”  He gestured at the shrimps and lobsters.

“That is against all custom,” said Cat angrily.  “None may claim rights in the Dragon Sea.  The Great Dragons forbade us that water in the Time of the First Ships.”

Sarfin looked uncomfortable and unhappy.  “That is Custom, not Law.  Custom has been overset before.  We have warned him that such a claim must go to the full Council, and he has agreed to put his claim there.”

“I must warn you,” put in Merced, “that Barad has laid his nets widely and with care to secure those waters.  I notice that he has already gone to spread the word. Many Captains are hearing of your cargo as we speak.  Greed has overset more Customs than reason ever has.”

Shortly, Captains began to come into the Pavilion for the Council.  Many pointed or stared at the remains of lobster, shrimp and clam and to the plates of pearl shell, carelessly left lying near the entrance, in plain view.

Sarfin brought the Council to order, and led them all through the reading of the Great Laws and the Customs of the Sea.  At last, the opening ceremonies required by Custom were done and business could begin.

A new ship had been built and was welcomed to the fleet.  The Fauline was showered with gifts and offers of crew-folk to fill out her needs.  Her first Captain was approved by the Council.  At long last, the Council was ready for new business.

There were debits to settle, disputes to adjudicate and finally, fishing rights to deal with.  Barad Maks stood up.  “The Grandalor would like to apply for new fishing waters.  The waters in question to be from the Gula’s Northern boundary, 5o North by 6o wide from Gula’s eastern boundary.”

Sarfin stood and spoke loudly and clearly, “The waters applied for are in violation of Custom.  They lie in the Dragon Sea.  The Custom, from the time of the First Ships has been that we fish the Deep Waters, except for those of the Dragon Sea.  It has been reserved as the abode of the Great Dragons from the Beginning.”

“Custom only!” cried Barad.  “This Council has the authority to overturn Custom!  We have all seen what Mord brought here from the Dragon Sea! There is wealth there!”

The assembled Captains rumbled agreement.

“We have two issues that we need to deal with, here!” Mord called out.  “One is the matter of Custom.  The other is Piracy!  Barad followed us by stealth when we went north.  He does not even deny it.  Now he is trying to use this Council to steal our find!  Will you let yourselves be so used?”

Merced plunged into the melee, “These are waters found by Captain Mord! Only by turning tail and coming south with all sail spread before they even knew what the Longin had found, was the Grandalor able to get here first.  Barad wants to set aside Custom to claim these waters out from under the Longin, but he hides behind Custom when it comes to presenting the claim.  He got here first!  That is the sole basis of his claim.  He did no work for it.  He presented his claim without even knowing what was there.”

It was no use.  Greed had the Captains in its claws.  The vote to overturn Custom and grant fishing waters went to Barad.

“I am Hored.  Many of you know me.  I say, let Barad have his waters.  He wishes to break Custom. Let him.  At the next gathering, if he has done well, then is the time for the rest of us to claim Dragon Sea waters for ourselves.”

Barad sneered, “The Great Dragons are legends only.  Stories to frighten children.”

“I’m just cautious with my ship,” was the calm reply.  “If you do find Dragons, kindly send a bit of identifiable wreckage south to let us know.”

Hored’s proposal was received with laughter, and passed.

Mord spoke at the last of the debate, “Barad, by foul means you have won those waters that we found.  You cannot have them until you yield up waters of equal size. The Grandalor already has the maximum a ship may have.  You must yield to the council one of your home waters to take up your claim.

“The Longin does not have our full allotment of home waters.”  He turned to the Council as a whole.  “You must give us what the Grandalor yields in recompense for our loss.”

With the smile of one springing a trap, Barad offered, “Before the Council, I yield 25o West to 31o West by 12o North to 17 o North.”

Mord said angrily, “Have you left your wits on dry land?  Those waters are a maze of reefs!  There is little deep water for our nets.  ‘For safety’s sake alone / Fish deep water / Steer clear the reef of stone.’ That is the Custom and a wise one as you have cause to know having grounded in that labyrinth yourself!  This is worthless water. Give us better.”

There was a rumble of agreement from the assembled Captains, but Barad stood against it, grinning. “You demanded water of equal size and I have been generous.  Waters in the tropics are larger than Northern waters, longitude is greatest in physical extent nearer the equator.  Take it or not, it is all one to me.  If you refuse, these are the only waters that will be in the hands of the Council.”

“We will take it then, and curse your name and ship.”  Mord sat, apparently still fuming.

When the Council broke up, the departing Captains were treated to the sights, sounds and scents of the trade bazaar that crew-folk from most of the ships had set up while they were inside debating.  This was the one time and place where rank had no privilege.  The ones behind the board or in the booth dealt with all comers the same.  There was a babble of voices as the different ships cried their merchandise.

“Cloth for sails, cloth for clothes!  The Gula’s weaving is second to none!”

“Rope!  The strongest rope! It’s the Mordan Twist!”

“Perfumes! Many a scent to please your love!”

“Shellfish!  Live lobster! Live Crab!  Clams!  Oysters!  Live Shrimp!  Longin lace!”

There was a dense crowd gathered around the Longin booth.

“Look at that, will you!  They have a whole big tub of crabs!”

“I’m trying to!  Move a bit, will you!  Thanks … I don’t believe it!  Those are lobsters in that tub over there!  And there’s clams in the bottom of that shrimp tub!  Get your elbow out of my side!”

“Mister!  Ma’am!  How much for just one of those bigger shrimps?”

“Thank you, Ma’am!  Boil the crab soon for best flavor, and watch out, the legs can scratch, even if the claws are tied!”

“Was that the last crab?  Oh, Dragons!  They’re out of crabs!”  There was a ragged chorus of “Oh, no!” and “I didn’t even get a chance!”  The tumult began anew as two of the Longin’s sailors dragged out a fresh tub of crabs.  The barely controlled riot of buyers for the unheard of cargo of live delicacies previously thought to be rare lucky finds continued until late …  

Kurin surprised everyone by setting up a small booth, under Master Juris’ proud and watchful eye.  On its board she set out many toys.

To be Continued

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#SEE STORY #Part 4 of 5 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

[materialsscienceandengineering]

A new method to recycle Nylon-6 by unlinking polymer chains

Nylon-6 is a tough, non-biodegradable plastic that cannot be recycled by conventional methods. A new way has now been introduced by a team from the U.S. in the journal Angewandte Chemie International Edition.

With an easily accessible lanthanum trisamido catalyst, Nylon-6 can be depolymerized highly selectively, nearly quantitatively, with no solvent, and at moderate temperatures to recover the monomer, ε-caprolactam. The monomers are removed sequentially from one polymer end, just like unthreading pearls from a chain.

Nylon is the fabric from which stockings are made. It is also the material of choice for many applications in areas including automobile manufacturing, packaging, infrastructure, textiles, and fishing. Its advantageous properties, such as elasticity, chemical resistance, high tensile strength, and high abrasion resistance get in the way of its biodegradability. Abandoned nylon fishing nets, for example, account for about 10% of the plastic waste in the oceans.

Industrially, the variant Nylon-6 is made through a ring-opening polymerization of ε-caprolactam on a scale of 5 million tons a year. The market volume is projected to reach 21.5 billion dollars by 2026. The heaps of trash are growing correspondingly, increasing the danger to the environment and our health. In addition, the production of Nylon-6 has a large CO2 footprint.

Read more.

#Materials Science #Science #Polymers #Nylon #Recycling #Materials processing #Catalysts