#source shutter island

[porcelainseashore]

To Neighbors and New Beginnings

Pairing: Retired! Older! Leon Kennedy x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon’s getting on in years and finally retired. But that doesn’t mean he’s slowing down in terms of enjoying life. When you moved in next door, little did you realize what you had bargained for.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Post-Resident Evil: Death Island, age gap (Leon in his 60s, Reader in her 30s), strangers to lovers, swearing, bad humor, teasing, flirting, awkward tension, slow burn, romance, fluff, suggestive themes, mild smut.

Authors' Note: Inspired by this older Leon Kennedy pic, we started with a drabble that of course turned into a full length one-shot about our favorite agent, who’s aged like fine wine. This is a writing collab between AliBelleRosetta / @alibellerosetta and me, which we did for fun!

AO3 Link

There comes a time when an agent needs to retire, and Leon was no exception. When he started pushing mid-60s, there wasn’t much else he could do, save for having his brains picked for knowledge on B.O.W. behavior and countertactics. Even that was slowly dwindling as new virus strains and procedures developed. It reached a point where an agreement was made for him to be called in on a consulting basis, but for the most part of his retirement life, he was free to do as he pleased, within limits.

After all the horrors he had witnessed, he was more than happy to opt for the simple life. He finally had enough time on his hands to care for a pet. So, he pounced at the opportunity and got himself a retired police dog, settling down together with him in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, in the middle of nowhere, doing fuck all. At least for the moment. Until you came along. You sweet, young thing, you.

You were half his age, but all is fair in love and war when both of you were consenting adults. You’d recently moved in next door to him, after the previous owners had decided to sell off their house in favor of acquiring a smaller, more manageable place. What was a young lady like yourself doing here? he often wondered. You were an enigma, just like he was to you.

It began with him going about his daily routine of yawning and stretching his weary limbs, as he trudged out sluggishly, in nothing more than a pair of shorts and flip-flops, to get the morning paper from his mailbox, dog trailing behind. Slamming the lid shut after he had fished the paper out of the box and flicked it open, he spotted you from the corner of his eye, just as his dog lifted his leg to mark his territory on the stand.

You were standing by your kitchen window, biting the bottom of your lip, oblivious to the tap left running, as you peered at him intently. It seemed as if you were even unaware that he had caught you staring, since you made no attempt to cover it up. He smirked to himself before nonchalantly heading back to his house. It gave him a boost of confidence knowing that he still remained spry as ever. So what if his hair, once golden blonde and a source of pride, was now a sea of white? So what if he sported a couple of wrinkles and liver spots? He sure as hell hadn’t lost his touch yet.

A couple of days later, when the weather was good, he pulled up a deckchair on the front lawn, in direct line of sight of your bedroom window. The sound of your hair dryer turning on tipped him off that you were in. He proceeded to sunbathe on the chair topless, his newspaper in hand, without a care in the world. His dog made his rounds along the lawn, frolicking in the grass, as various passers-by greeted Leon cordially.

“Mr. Kennedy.”

He nodded at them politely.

A moment later, he heard the shutters of a window opening. He didn’t even have to turn in your direction to know that you were leaning out, pretending to take in the glow of the noon sun as you traced the outline of his muscles with your eyes. He flipped a page and chuckled. Oh, what was he going to do with you?

Well, the grass was getting taller and more unruly. That wouldn’t do. It was time for him to whip out the big guns. He picked a Sunday afternoon, when people were usually lazy and lounged around at home. Gripping the mower’s handle with one hand, he pulled the starter cord a couple of times, until the engine revved to life. 

Its loud, whirring sound caused you to poke your head out of your window. He caught your gaze then, giving you a cocky wink. A scarlet blush spread across your cheeks as you waved back at him, trying to appear friendly. Shaking his head with a grin, he got to work, methodically pushing the mower across the lush, green expanse of his front lawn. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and pooled at his neck. It was time for a short break.

Peeling his drenched, white t-shirt over his head, he used it to wipe the sweat away, dabbing at his chest and underarms, before slinging it over his shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on the scene before you, as you rested your chin in the cradle of your hands, staring dreamily at him again from the window. He flexed his upper body slightly, just enough to give you a teaser of what was to come. That snapped you out of your reverie, as you cleared your throat and busied yourself with something in the kitchen. He couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

Soon, he saw you walking over with an icy cold drink in your hand. You stuck it out in front of him like a peace offering.

“Lemonade?” You seemed uncertain and shy.

“Sure.” He nodded and smiled, accepting it graciously. 

A tingle ran through your veins where his fingers brushed against yours when he took the glass from you. His piercing blue eyes held your gaze as he gulped down the refreshment, though the last bits of it spilled from his mouth down to his chest.

“Oops.” He shrugged unapologetically. “Can’t let it go to waste, can I?”

Dragging his finger along the wet parts of his chest, he gathered what remained of the liquid and placed it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“Mmm,” he murmured softly. “Tastes good.”

The crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, as he watched you sputter and cough in response.

“Excuse me.” A crimson wave had washed over your face, as you pat your chest furiously. “Choked on my saliva.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

He eyed you again intensely, motioning to your other hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, uh, sunblock?” You pointed at the reddened skin on his back. “I thought you might-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he interrupted, presenting his back towards you, as he waited patiently for you to make a move.

Sweetheart? You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you had misheard what he said. Shakily, you squeezed out a creamy, white blob of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before slathering it over his back gingerly.

You gasped in surprise, as you felt the toned muscles of his back beneath your hands. This was way better in-person. He must work out a lot, you thought. A lot more than someone of his age.

However, it didn’t take long for you to notice the multitude of scars scattered across his back. As you caressed the raised bumps and faded indents, you wondered what kind of life he had led back in the day. Was he a military man? A war veteran? Or maybe he just got into a lot of fights?

Apparently, you must have a magic touch, because Leon started to treat it as if you were giving him a full-body massage.

“Yeah,” he grunted, as you ran your hands over his taut shoulders. “Right there…”

Your task was to simply ensure he didn't get any more sunburned than he already was, but the poor man was so tight all over, you felt sorry for him. So, you got a little carried away and pressed hard against a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back.

He tilted his head back involuntarily and let out a loud, pornographic moan.

“Mr. Kennedy?” you squeaked, concerned if you went too far.

“Please, just call me Leon.” He flashed a boyish smile that revealed a glimpse into how he might have appeared in his younger days. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response, his praise getting the better of you and causing a pool of arousal to form between your legs. All at once, you’d forgotten where to place your hands, what to say, and what exactly were you doing, flirting with your older neighbor so shamelessly out in the open?

A cold shower was definitely on the agenda after this. If DILFs existed, what would you call even older men who were this fuckable again? GILFs? You shuddered, feeling dirty for all the obscene thoughts swimming through your mind.

“Um, well, I guess that’s done!” you chirped out rather overenthusiastically, as you pulled away from him.

There was a slight pout on his face, though he was quick to mask it with a courteous smile. “Shame,” he commented lightheartedly. “Was enjoying it.”

A little too much, you snickered internally, as you made your way back to your house

━━━━━━━━━━━

As he stood staring out of his living room window, he pondered his next move. Despite your previous hasty retreat, you had taken to discreetly watching him work with not just a small amount of eagerness, and he was more than happy to oblige your ogling. After all, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman staring after them?

You were a curious one in his eyes, a blend of boldness as you approached him and shyness the moment you got your anticipated reward. It was a fun game he was more than happy to play with you.

Today wasn't going to be any different.

Once again, the sun hung high with not a cloud in sight, perfect to work outside on some much needed errands, but with your notable attention on him lately, the to-do list had taken quite a hit. His ideas were wearing thin, but one thought stuck out, especially with how keen you seemed to be watching him work the lawnmower. Maybe something on a larger scale would be within your interests.

With a smirk and a listen out for the quiet clangs coming from your kitchen to let him know you were home, he dropped the empty coffee cup down in his sink and headed over to snatch up his long neglected key to get on with the job at hand. The sturdy garage door opened with a series of loud clanks, the inside admittedly dusty with neglect. There in the middle stood his pride and joy. The motorcycle was an older model, but also the only one to withstand his youthful recklessness.

It’s long overdue for a tune up, he thought, grasping the handlebars as he pushed the bike out of the garage. He let it come to a rest slightly out on the driveway as he decided to give it a check over and wash it down, sneakily just in the eyeline of your window but not enough for you to see much. The bike itself admittedly didn’t get ridden as much as it should, but if he guessed right, maybe it would someday soon.

You had heard the noise of his garage door open only for curiosity to get the better of you, cracking open the window to try to get a peek of what your neighbor was up to now. It was like something had come over you, and every time he made an appearance, you couldn’t help but watch after him. You saw he was there outside briefly before heading back into his house and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water.

When he glanced at your kitchen upon his return, he chuckled to himself as he dropped the bucket down, sloshing some of the water across his drive. Apparently his idea had already started to work a treat, having grabbed your attention. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, as the motorcycle roared to life, the battery still able to kick in despite its disuse. The sound of the engine was distinct, much different from the mower previously, and he knew it was sure to pique your interest even further with what a curious thing you were. The shuffling from your kitchen as the window cracked open a little more was enough to tell him that he once again had your attention. Without a care in the world other than checking his bike and giving you a show, he dropped down on one knee, ignoring the tightening feeling in his joints. His knees weren't what they used to be after too many B.O.W. fights.

From your hung back viewpoint, you couldn’t see much, but the noise from outside drew your focus fiercely and you couldn't help but try to get a better look. No matter how much you stood on your tiptoes and reached close to the window, he was just about covered from your spot where you could only make out his unfortunately clothed back, hiding his mysterious antics for once. The way he was acting was odd, as usually he was more open with his activities. You tried to tell yourself that you should walk away and leave him to it, but it was like a desperate urge that needed to be quenched.

While his dog ran off into the yard to chase a wandering squirrel, he moved on to checking the bike over, not one to half-ass his task even if there were other motives. A quick examination of the moving parts and pivot points for signs of wear and tear came back fine, as well as inspecting for any leakage that disuse could have caused. The job was a lot messier than he remembered, with the oil gathering around the edges of the chassis coating his hands and part of his top.

The sudden barking of his dog nearby alerted him to a presence on the property, a smirk creeping up knowingly that your interest had once again gotten the better of you. You just stood there next to him staring him down, checking out his arm muscles that were left uncovered by the loose gray tank he wore, the words of your friends running through your mind as they egged you on to get closer to him. He had been working hard, and you noticed with a flush that some of the oil had smudged up his forearms and along his taught biceps.

He was tempted to chuckle at just how predictable you were becoming, knowing before he turned to look your way that you would be gazing over him with that distinct look in your eyes. It was no surprise to him at all that he was correct, finding you standing there with your shadow cast over him, and your arms wrapped around yourself, transfixed. He was seriously wondering if you didn’t know you were staring at him that way, or if you just didn’t care to hide it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you found your eyes suddenly catching his, quickly darting away from his bright blue ones and to the motorcycle he was working on. “Oh wow, didn't know you had a bike.”

“This old girl? Been with me for years,” he said as his large hand patted the hard seat in front of him. He then used the seat as a brace to stand up, stretching out the stiff muscles that had begun to seize up from his crouched position while also putting his body on full display for your eyes. 

You couldn’t help yourself as you watched him riveted, taking in the way he flexed and moved as you felt a blush flash across your cheeks again. You had to cough to clear your throat as you tore your eyes away from him. “Haven't seen you ride it.”

“Not much of a chance to lately.”

You bit your cheek at the thought of him on it, and of you wrapped around his firm back while he rode it. No matter what, your mind kept going back to him, reliving the sensation of his skin under your hands when you had put lotion on his body, desperate to touch-

“I need to wash.”

“What?” you yelped, startled out of your wandering thoughts which snapped to his oil-covered arms and hands, eyeing them up and instantly imagining them instead coated in lather and foam as water streaked down them. You wouldn't have minded being the one to wash that oil off of his skin if it meant running your hands all over him again, a thought you were coming to accept was fueled by nothing but pure lust.

“The bike. It's filthy,” he clarified with an amused chuckle, leaving you feeling hot, embarrassed and completely disappointed. Of course he meant the bike, you scolded yourself, suddenly flushing more with humiliation than arousal.

Unexpectedly, he moved to bend down right in front of you, the tank he was wearing gaping open enough with the movement for you to look down the front of it and at his solid chest partially hidden underneath. “Oh,” you sighed out as you bit your tongue hard in an effort not to say more, his head becoming dangerously close to your crotch, and if he just shifted over a little more… 

His rough hand reached into the bucket next to you to grab the sponge floating on top, his eyes moving to catch yours as he shot you a downright dangerous smirk. As he stood back up straight, he rang the sponge out to remove the excess water, the soapy suds flying everywhere around the pair of you. You noticed that the foam coated his tank and turned it translucent in the sun as it clung tightly to his body and left trails of droplets over his uncovered skin. All you could do was swallow hard and drag your eyes off of him, a task that was more monumental than you thought it would be.

With a casualness about him, he set the sponge down on the seat of the bike suddenly, asking you, “Wanna go for a ride sometime?” 

You were caught by surprise, mind instantly faltering at the evocative question. There was no way he meant anything other than a ride on his motorcycle, right? you thought. After all, he was just a friendly older man, not some hormone riddled teen chatting up the first woman he laid eyes on. It was you that had the dirty mind. “I, um, maybe? I don't have much experience with them,” you said, answering his question as best you could ramble out.

His eyebrow quirked at your answer, his voice deepening slightly as he replied, “Hmm, never thought that would be the case. I don't mind teaching you a few things, sweetheart.”

You just laughed off his words, thinking the suggestiveness was still all on you. “I've never even been on a bike.”

“Who said I was talking about my bike?”

Your breath instantly hitched at the implication, your eyes darting between his mirth filled ones only to drift lower and catch onto his lips. They looked soft, warm, highlighted on each side by deepened laughter lines that you never would’ve thought could look so good on a man. But as they say, when men get older they age like fine wine. If that was the case, he would be a Cabernet Sauvignon aged to perfection. And you were parched.

It didn’t surprise you at all that when you found yourself shifting closer to him, you chose to embrace it, craving to feel the lips of the man you had spent too much time lately thinking about, only to become emboldened as he seemed to move in too. Your lips were mere inches apart, the heat of desire desperately running through you at the anticipated touch. 

All that came crashing down the moment his dog streaked past you chasing that damn squirrel, sending the bucket of water flying and splashing water across you both, cooling down your racing pulse and burning libido. Alarmed, you quickly backed away from him, down his drive, as the implications of what you almost did crashed down upon you. All you could do was mutter some kind of excuse and beat a hasty retreat, wondering how you would ever be able to look your neighbor in the eye the next time you saw him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As Leon watched the scene unfold in front of him, there wasn’t much else he could do. You were a slippery one, like a mouse that had been spooked and scurried off. The one that got away. He placed his hands on his hips, arms akimbo as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Rein it in, Kennedy. What were you thinking?

He really should find better things to do than to chase a pretty little thing like you. You probably had a bunch of younger men waiting in line, he noted self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound and a light flickered on the ground at his feet. Your phone. It must have slipped out of your pocket in your rush to get away. Picking it up, his eyes darted towards the message notification on the screen that piqued his curiosity. It seemed to come from a group chat entitled ‘All The Single Ladies’.

‘Raaarrr, is that the literal definition of a silver fox or what?’

Silver fox? Did they mean what he was thinking? He began to second-guess himself.

The next notification popped up only seconds after, filled with thirsty-looking emojis followed by another text.

‘Damn gurl, your neighbor is hot af! You better tap that or I will!’

More strings of notifications chimed in, as the phone vibrated constantly.

‘GILF alert!’

‘I wanna blow him so hard he’ll…’

At that, he put the phone down and stopped reading, already having figured out your spiel and not wanting to intrude any further into your privacy. A wry smile formed across his face. Not only had you been speaking with your friends about him, you’d even sent them a sneaky picture you’d snapped of him to gawk at.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he was back in the game again. Guess he’d better clean up and use the perfect excuse of returning your phone back to you to have a chat.

Meanwhile at your place, you’d managed to calm your nerves with a cold shower and a pot of floral tea. That was so stupid! you screamed at yourself internally, not daring to look in the direction of the window any longer.

Before you had a chance to ponder upon your recent actions any longer, your stomach growled audibly. Glancing up at the clock, you were astonished to find that the hours had just sped by unnoticed. It was already time to start cooking dinner. You had a whole chicken and potatoes to roast, as well as the vegetables, herb butter and sauce to prepare. 

Your friends were supposed to have joined you today for the meal, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances had kept them preoccupied, and your dinner gathering had been delayed to another weekend. Still, you were determined not to let that get in the way of your enjoyment, so you decided to go ahead with the same meal plan anyway.

If only today’s events had gone differently with a certain neighbor of yours. You sighed dejectedly and pressed a palm against your face. Though that sparked off a reminder that you hadn’t checked your phone for any messages for a while. Where was it?

You scrambled around, digging through your pockets and your purse to find the device, but came back empty-handed. A blinding panic began to set in. Oh god no. You didn’t leave it at Leon’s by accident, did you?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling you and causing you to jump to your feet. You sprinted towards the door, swinging it open, only to come face-to-face with the man who had been causing you all this trouble so far.

“H-hello…?” you stammered out a greeting, slowly wedging yourself behind the door, using it like a makeshift barrier between you and Leon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dangled your phone in front of him, grinning playfully. “Forgot something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks!” You reached out, grabbing it quickly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

A horrifying thought swept through your mind. Did he know? You searched his facial expression closely for any indication that he might have seen something on your phone that he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing. He looked as cool and collected as ever.

Maybe you were overthinking things. “I was just about to make dinner actually,” you mentioned in passing. 

He looked at you expectantly and whatever willpower you had left in that instant vanished into thin air. You caved in.

“Would you like to join me?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could process them.

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied huskily as he stepped into the corridor you led him through.

“So what’re we cooking tonight, chef?” He peered around the kitchen, checking out the equipment and utensils, trying to get acquainted with the place.

You guffawed. “Erm, you’re a guest.”

“So?” He folded his arms. “I’m not the type who lets a lady do all the work.”

Aware that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter, you raised your hands in mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He shrugged, sliding past you towards where the aprons were hanging. You gasped when you felt his calloused hands momentarily on your waist. Was he doing this on purpose?

Pulling yourself together, you started to brief him on the Sunday Roast Chicken recipe, passed down through generations in your family from a battered, old notebook. He responded to each instruction with a “Yes, ma’am,” and followed them to a T. You had to give him brownie points for his eagerness to please.

“No, Leon,” you scolded gently. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Could you stop calling me ma’am?” You laughed. “Makes me feel old.”

“You’re one to talk.” He winked at you while placing the baking tray on the correct level. “Are you this bossy in the bedroom?”

You nearly spat out the water you’d been sipping on. “Uh, I-I don’t know?” Clearly, you wanted to bury yourself in a hole right there and then.

“Guess the proof is in the pudding,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear every single word.

“Wine?” Your shrill voice cut through the air like a knife, as you tried to change the subject, shoving the bottle directly into his chest.

“Oof.” It stunned him that he felt winded by the accidental blow. He gripped the bottle as you eyed him apologetically. “Easy there, girl.”

“Sorry, my bad.” 

You brought over two empty glasses while he helped to pour out the wine, your fingers grazing against his wrist as he handed you a filled up one back. A part of you wanted to prolong the caress, but you held back, unsure of where you stood with him. You could feel the weight of his burning gaze locked onto yours as he toasted to “neighbors and new beginnings” before drinking from his glass.

You almost missed your cue, taking an extra beat to raise your own glass to your lips as you dragged your eyes from his. The wine on your tongue tasted like the sweetest you had ever sipped. Maybe it’s the company? you questioned as you watched him drop his glass down on the counter behind him. You clutched your own tightly, feeling the atmosphere constricting as he refused to look away.

The only thing you could hear was the tick of the kitchen timer and the beat of your pulse in your ears as the silence stretched between you both. Besides the smoldering of his eyes under his snowy bangs, he gave you nothing, so with desperation, you racked your brain for something, anything, to keep the tense undercurrent at bay.

With a moment of clarity, it hit you as you dropped your own glass down and glanced over towards the far side of your kitchen. The single table sat there, usually a crowded affair when your friends were over but plenty big for just two. If nothing else, setting the table would keep you busy and your mind from wandering.

With a plan of action in place to set the table, you went to shift from your spot only to be met with another obstacle. Of all the places he had to be standing in your kitchen, it was just typical he was in front of the cutlery drawer. Still, even if you had to get close to him, it was meant to be a friendly dinner after all. The almost kiss was probably just in your mind and you had been overanalyzing too much. All he had done that night since was bring over your phone like a good Samaritan and help you cook dinner like a friend.

You walked over to him, noticing that despite your approach he didn't move at all, seeming very content to have you come into his close proximity. You caught his eyes as they drifted downwards, and all of a sudden you realized the mistake you were making. Being this near to him was setting off the blush you tried keeping down, and you were sure he was going to notice.

“May I?” you asked as you stopped in front of him, a hand pointing at the drawer behind him. 

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, while not even moving a step away.

You blinked up at him, trying hard not to imagine what else he could possibly mean with those words. “The drawer. I keep the cutlery in there.”

Despite your explanation, he still didn’t shift, instead just staying where he was and watching you curiously. He had to wonder what you were up to, getting so close to him with that cute flush on your face, stammering out any old excuse. You didn’t need one at all, in his opinion.

“Oh.”

That one syllable sent a shiver down your spine. It was a mistake, a really, really bad one you decided right then and there. Just being so near to him, feeling the heat of his breath was making the ache to touch him that much more potent. You wanted to feel those lips.

You backed off from him in a hurry, fighting the flush that you felt flooding your skin as you bumped into the oven, clanging the pan you had on top that had been left out to help you prepare the dinner. You found your excuse to keep him at bay, still needing to finish preparing a few final bits of the meal.

“Help set the table?” you quickly asked him with your voice a tad too high. “Plates are up there.”

You hoped it worked, sending him a good distance away from you in the kitchen to arrange the table while you got your overheated body under control.

“There’s that bossy thing again,” you heard him mutter as he opened the cabinet you had pointed to and reached up to grab a couple of plates, though his words sounded strangely disappointed to your surprise.

You tried not to look over, but in the end it was in vain. You were blessed by the sight of his shirt ridden up, once again showing off his ridiculous physique and making you feel like melting all over again.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be a long one.

���━━━━━━━━━━

In spite of the earlier faux pas, you were thankful that having dinner with Leon passed by without any further embarrassments. He proved to be quite a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, and you found yourself relaxing into the laughter and various points of discussion you both shared. You were enjoying yourself so much that you hadn’t realized how fast time had flown, and it was suddenly nearing midnight. Suffice to say, you were feeling rather disappointed that he would need to leave so soon.

“Good food, good wine, good company…” He stood up, helping you to clear the dishes from the table. “What more could a man like myself ask for?”

You beamed at him, letting your guard down for once. He was being such a gentleman that you couldn’t help but open your mouth and blabber out the next statement before thinking. “Could I get you anything else? Dessert, or-”

You caught yourself, pausing abruptly as your stomach sank. Why did everything you say sound like an innuendo?

He placed the dishes down where they were and made his way slowly and assuredly towards you. For some reason, you were frozen on the spot, unable to scamper off and hide within your own home without looking like an absolute fool in front of the man you had been secretly crushing on this whole time.

“You know, I can see the gears turning.” It was as if his voice dropped an octave lower. “Right here.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the side of your head, giving you a slanted smile.

“Now that you say it,” he continued languidly. “Dessert would be nice.”

He curled his hand, so that his knuckles brushed along your cheek towards your jawline, as you shivered from his touch.

“Whatever you need,” you echoed his previous sentiments softly, as you lost yourself in his deep blue eyes, now ablaze with a fierce hunger. All you could do was stare into them, watching as they drew ever closer. Then you caught it, the moment they left yours to drop down lower. Your lips parted as you inhaled sharply, your heart pounding as you felt the ghost of his breath.

You thought that he would pull away at any second, that it was just another misunderstanding. That was until you felt the first light brush against your lips. Your mind went blank, struggling to keep up until it hit that he was kissing you. All those prior moments with him flashed across your mind, and none of them had been innocent after all.

His hand slid to rest against your cheek, pulling your face closer to his as his lips caressed your own, coaxing you to reciprocate as you finally gave in to the yearning that had constricted you for so long. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, but warm as you returned the kiss with an indulgent sigh.

You felt him smile against your mouth, as you trailed your hands along his arms towards his shoulders, pressing your body against his in an effort to deepen the kiss. He grew bolder, licking across the slight parting of your lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Whimpering in pleasure, you allowed him to move his tongue to meet yours, drawing in his taste again and again.

As you started to gently grind into him, he broke away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, panting heavily against your swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he breathed, before clamping his lips at the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

Tugging the collar of his shirt tightly, you rasped, “How about a second helping?”

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your bed, slick with sweat while Leon rocked his hips against yours. You savored the fullness of him in you, grasping onto his ass as your nails dug into his skin, leaving angry, red marks in the process. “More,” you whined, in a tone that came off unintentionally on the side of demanding rather than pleading.

He gave you just what you asked for, with sweet nothings coming from his lips along with comments about knowing you were going to be bossy. Testing the waters brought you both much further than expected, but neither of you could complain.

The rest of the night went by in a dreamlike haze. At some point, you rode him on top, his large, chafed hands groping your breasts, as you tilted your head back and cried out until your voice was hoarse. At another, you leaned your back flush against his chest as he thrust into you from behind, groaning incoherently into your neck. 

You took things in your own stride, resting when needed and going again when it was comfortable to do so. Even though he had set the pace slower than you were used to, it was no less intense. In fact, everything felt deeper and more passionate, like you were melting into one.

Every release he brought you was an ascension that sent you beyond, flooding you with a euphoria that made you desperate for him. It left you addicted, your body craving more and more of his touch each time until nothing but the feel of his skin and the shifting of the sheets could be comprehended.

The final time was intense, filled with a feeling of pure bliss that you knew you would be dreaming about for days as you clung to him in desperate abandon. His name fell from your lips in a gasp, and in turn he muttered yours.

Splayed across his damp chest, you traced the lines of his freckled, weathered skin, as he stroked your hair contentedly. “Best dessert I’ve had in a while,” he grunted, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. “Michelin star worthy.”

You swatted his hand playfully, giggling at his quip. It spurred you on to tease him back. “So, will I get an actual ride next time?”

He chuckled heartily, though he didn’t miss a beat. Age was never an issue, he still had his wits about him. “’Course, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you tell me what a GILF is.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #older!leon #older leon kennedy #resident evil #porcelainscribbles #writing collab

[quinloki]

Donquixote Doflamingo - BITTER

Requestor: @tenzeniths Reader Vibes Requested: AFAB they/them - no pronouns or bodily description was used in the final result. CW: Manipulation, abuse, kidnapping, threats of violence, bodily manipulation, angst, amnesia is background in this one, Doflamingo is his own content warning

You’d seen it, the feathers, the distinct shade of pink. You didn’t want to think he would’ve traveled so far to find you. To leave the Grandline with all his plans and ambitions. But no one else dressed like that, and even if they ever had before, with his status now they wouldn’t dare.

You ran through the streets you’d spent the last few months learning specifically for this reason. Taking alleys and shortcuts only the locals could have hoped to know better, and even then most locals would stick to the main roads.

The problem had started nearly three years ago. Something had happened, even now you couldn’t remember what it was - an accident, or something intentional, but you lost your memories. It had taken a long time for them to return to you, and when they did you realized that you had been duped the entire time you’d been with him.

Donquixote Doflamingo, “king” of Dressrosa, and Warlord of the Government.

The source of your nightmares and a terrifying puppet master. You had believed his actions toward you to be a mercy at first, but getting to see your life with eyes devoid of manipulated memories was all you needed. Despite the risks, you put yourself first, planned everything, and fled the island successfully.

But even with that success you knew that getting away wasn’t going to be easy. You’d warmed the man’s bed, stoked his ego, given him everything he wanted in exchange for a life of bliss and ignorance. You’d already changed as much of yourself as you could. Cut your hair, dyed it, started wearing clothes you didn’t really like in aesthetics or style, and more. No more jewels, no more makeup.

You worked physical jobs, and had a very small room that was little more than a place to rest your head and eat in peace. You had to be unrecognizable at this point.

You had to be.

You slipped into your small home, pulling shutters and curtains, blocking every part of the world you could and keeping your lights out. Your new life had just found a rhythm. You were beginning to make friends, and even save up a few extra berries so you could splurge on some nice food. You’d gotten into debt when you first arrived because you’d had nothing to your name.

The people here hadn’t been unreasonable, and it had only taken a month to pay back what was lent. Because of that you didn’t want to go running to anyone for help right now. It was best to isolate yourself, and hope that if Doflamingo was here, it wouldn’t be for long at all.

You had food enough, money enough, and good will enough to miss a couple days and play it off as an unexpected cold.

A knock at your door nearly stops your heart. You squeeze into the corner and hold your breath, doing everything you can to make yourself unnoticeable. It didn’t matter who was at the door, you needed to not exist for a couple days.

You let your breath out slowly, breathing in just as painfully slow.

It feels like the air caresses your skin and you nearly sob as a compulsion you can’t control brings you to your feet. Fear and knowing break you before you can even panic.

When you open the door to your small home, you’re not surprised by the sight before you.

He’s impossibly tall, the fluffy pink coat he wears filling in any other gaps in the doorway. The smile on his face is a mix of amusement and anger, but you can’t even muster the humanity to react to it. You’ve disappeared into yourself, more puppet than human.

“There you are.” He muses, his strings bringing you up to his eye level as a single finger makes sure you’re looking at him. “My precious little doll.”

You hang limply in the air, vacant eyes almost looking through him rather than at him. He’s quiet for a moment, and when you don’t say anything - to beg or try to convince him he’s got the wrong person - his toothy smile pulls wider.

“Not so much as a word of thanks for finding you after you got yourself lost?” The words are clipped as his anger is straining beneath his skin. “Are you going to let me believe you ran away from me?”

The tone of his words chills you and you shake your head.

“… Thank you, young master,” you say carefully. “For finding me. I… I was… so scared.” The words overlap with your current terror and the mask cracks enough for you to shed a few tears.

The anger fades even as the smile stays, and he tilts your face a little. “There, there, little doll, no matter how far you wander, I’ll always find you.” He promises, leaning forward and capturing your lips. You react to the kiss - to not react at all would be unwise, but you’re careful not to come across too desperately.

It’s a game, and you both know the truth of things. You need only to admit defeat to ensure you keep your life. If you continue to defy him after being caught it would only be worse for you, but if you throw yourself at him in an attempt to deceive him entirely, he’ll react poorly to the deception.

There was a fine-line between playing along and lying, and knowing how to walk that line was going to be the difference between enjoying your captivity, or not. If life in the cage was inevitable, it was best to be deluded into some sense of comfort.

One large arm wraps around you, holding you to his chest as the strings fall away and the control of your own movements is returned to you. He lets you stay nuzzled under his coat, mostly hidden from view as he walks through the streets of the city.

“Is there anyone you wish to say farewell to, little doll?” He questions in a way that almost sounds caring.

You shake your head. “… The people here kept me safe while I waited for you to find me, young master.” You say carefully. “But I have no attachments.”

There’s a silence that’s heavy and calculating between you, and you do your best to keep your composure. He brings you up a little, kissing the top of your head.

“We’ll reward them for keeping you safe then,” he says, and relief washes over your body as he and the crew leave the island without any further action.

You were set upon a chair in Doflamingo’s cabin, and stayed mostly still while he and the crew set sail. He praised you for waiting patiently for him.

“Of course, young master,” you say, a little more emotion - a little more acceptance - coming into your voice. “Last time I moved around needlessly, I got lost.

“I need to become a better doll, so that you don’t have to worry about me again.”

#Forget Me Not Event 2024 #reader insert #x reader #amnesia #one piece fanfiction #request event #angst #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #Bitter

[wawamouse]

every other day i am suddenly slammed at mid-day by cringe dream remembrances.... i seem to have had some sort of dream that i was watching a failed/forgotten low budget Oz revival that came out in the 90s (yes.... before the show ended). you could really tell that they rushed production because the pods were made out of styrofoam that were spotted with bugs and frass (my memory was drawing on source images from reading papers about mealworms eating polystyrene i think, lol)

and the extras were just sitting on little styrofoam stools in what looked like an abandoned warehouse basically like this:

i think the conditions were probably worse than actual prison tbh and everyone was wearing really bad long wigs, you know, to show that time had passed 💀

Beecher was being insane at one point and I started to wonder if this was actually a TV show or if they had kidnapped the cast and crew and were forcing them to live in squalor for real. anyway Sister Pete was out front giving an interview to local news crews about how they had transformed Oz into a mental hospital, or it had more psychiatric programs or something (i was like: idk about that.....doesn't look like it.... :T)

Tbh I think my mind melded "Girl Interrupted" + "Shutter Island" + "Oz" (Also I watched "Devil in a Blue Dress" last night and Terry Kinney was in that so I think maybe that had something to do with the time fuck) because it took place both in the future of Oz but also in the past?? Miguel was wearing a suit for some reason but only sometimes. Other times he was wearing his normal gray tank top and bandana and doing a dance with a broom in the middle of a nasty debris filled hallway...? Mershah was also weirdly alive and wearing a long brown wig for some reason but for some reason I thought he was the actor's character from "Eve's Bayou", but also his name was Nick?? Idk he had a whole segment dedicated to him and what he'd been up to in Oz (there was a flashback to remind the viewers but idr anything about it other than the insane flashing lights that accompanied the transitions). Then it cut back to Beecher scampering around like a werewolf (I watched "Jumanji" yesterday also so maybe that's why). At this point in my dream, dream-me who was 'watching' the show but also weirdly walking around in the world of the show was like "Damn this blows....It looks so cheap and there's not even any plot. They should never have let Tom Fontana ruin his legacy like this. Where even is Chico :T" And then I sort of wandered up the hall toward the brighter part of the ruins where you could see the bluish light of the outside world (there was no electricity inside) and then i woke up lol

#text #my dreams never inspire me.... i just wake up and go wtf

[aquitainequeen]

Behind a paywall after you've read a certain number of articles, so;)

In 1851, Charles Babbage, the English mathematician and inventor, found himself preoccupied with what might happen should coal mines—then and now one of the primary sources of usable energy—become depleted. He concluded that “the sea itself offers a perennial source of power hitherto almost unapplied.” Babbage was talking about tides, those lunar-guided movements of the world’s oceans, and the very synonym of dependable constancy. But while his Difference Engine, a mechanical calculator seen as a seminal fore-runner to the computer, would essentially go on to remake our world, Babbage’s ideas about tidal power drifted in the undercurrent for the next century and a half, largely the province of dreamers.

Lately, however, buoyed by successful demonstration projects and a new interest in renewable energy bolstered even further by Europe’s anticipated turning off of Russian taps, tidal energy is moving increasingly into the mainstream. While the number of megawatts produced annually by tidal—in places from Canada’s Bay of Fundy to South Korea’s Sihwa Lake—is still small, notes Donagh Cagney, policy director for the advocacy group Ocean Energy Europe, “the increase is exponential.” For example, by 2050, tidal energy is expected to account for 11% of the U.K.’s electricity, compared with just 3% today.

But in remote coastal Scotland, some residents are already getting a taste of that future. Scotland has become to tidal energy what Saudi Arabia is to fossil fuels. Cagney chalks this up to several factors, ranging from its geography—the country is blessed with some of the world’s fastest-moving tidal sounds—to its experience in working with offshore oil extraction. For those reasons, it has for almost two decades hosted the world’s biggest grid-connected test bed for tidal energy, the Euro-pean Marine Energy Centre (EMEC). Founded in 2003, it’s headquartered in the Orkney Islands, off Scotland’s northern coast. Neil Kermode, the center’s director since 2005, has seen some 35 tidal-energy projects tested, by startups that have come and gone—some shuttered for lack of capitalization or nonviable technology, some absorbed by larger companies like GE.

But the biggest project ever run at EMEC is still there, providing power for 1 in 12 Orcadian households. The O2, as it’s dubbed, created by the Scottish company Orbital Marine, weighs some 680 tons, is longer than a Boeing 747, and skims the top of the water like the world’s largest rowing scull. “It looks like, well, a yellow submarine,” says Kermode. “When you see it, and the tide is roaring past, it’s really hard to realize it’s stationary. There’s a real optical illusion—you think this thing is being towed through the water.” But the O2 is chained to the seabed, via four cables, each capable of lifting some 50 double-decker buses off the ground. Only the water is moving, pushing two 10-m.-long turbines with some 100 metric tons of pressure, and continuously generating 2,000 megawatts (mW), enough to power roughly 2,000 homes.

For the entrepreneurs and researchers dedicated to harnessing that power, the ocean—that primordial space out of which so much of life on earth emerged—seems destined to once again supply the forces that will help create a new phase of history. But as anyone who has ever battled the waves by boat or board knows, taming the tides will be a gargantuan task.

The idea is simple. First, tides. They rise and fall predictably, relentlessly driven by the gravitational pull of the moon. Those traits combined make the tide an attractive proposition for powering the grid. “The sun doesn’t always shine; the wind doesn’t always blow,” notes Simon Forrest, the CEO of Scotland-based tidal-power producer Nova Innovation. But with tidal, he says, “we can tell you how much we will be generating two minutes past 3 in the morning a month from now, five years from now.”

Second, you need what is basically the equivalent of a wind turbine, placed underwater (either moored to the seabed or attached to the underside of some floating structure), which drives a generator. And luckily, water is denser than air, by some 800 times. “You tend to get a more compact, powerful source of energy,” says Forrest. “Our turbines are a lot smaller than wind turbines, but produce a lot more bang for the buck.” Nova, in particular, has other advantages: where the O2 floats, Nova’s turbines lie beneath the ocean surface. “Our technologies are unaffected by storms,” says Forrest. There’s no visual impact, he says—aesthetics have been a reason many people have objected to wind turbines in the past—and do not create hazards for shipping or other marine operations.

Nova billed its initial deployment, in Scotland’s Shetland Islands in 2016, as the “world’s first offshore tidal array.” There are now six turbines in Shetland’s Bluemull Sound, powering homes and, thanks to a collaboration with Tesla, electric-vehicle charge points as well. After the success of that project, authorities granted Nova a license to build a 50-mW array, which will provide up to one-third of Shetland’s power.

“We’ve been producing clean, predictable power for six years in Shetland,” says Forrest. “And you don’t see it.” Another thing that consumers on Shetland—or Orkney—do not see is the true price of their energy use on their monthly bills, thanks to government subsidies. For the technology to grow and spread globally, tidal-energy companies will need to reduce costs through scale and technology-driven efficiency improvements. It’s not a fantasy; for example, in the U.S., the price of wind power has fallen 70% over the past decade.

There is the question of how mass deployment of tidal turbines might impact the seas. “If you are putting something in the ocean that is extracting energy, [you] are perturbating the ocean,” says Michela de Dominicis, a senior scientist with the U.K.’s National Oceanographic Centre. “This can have cascading effects,” like disrupting the nutrient mix of ocean ecosystems as well as raising water temperatures. Her research suggests, however, that any disturbances may well be worth it. “In one of my papers I was showing that even if I’m putting like 20,000 turbines at sea and I’m perturbating the environment,” she says, “this effect is one order of magnitude less than what can happen with climate change.”

Tidal energy’s biggest hurdle may simply be the limited number of places in the world where it’s possible. In the U.S., aside from a small project in New York’s East River—which powers the equivalent of fewer than 400 homes—few sites have been identified that have the promise of Scotland’s waters. What the U.S. does have in abundance is coastline, which speaks to the promise of another ocean-energy source: waves. Despite an early burst of enthusiasm for wave power a few decades ago, tidal has since eclipsed it, in part because the open seas make for a more challenging environment. “It’s an unconventional resource,” says Andrew Scott, the CEO of Orbital Marine, who previously worked at Pelamis, an early and now defunct wave-power startup. “Waves have a vertical excursion. They’ve got a horizontal excursion. They’ve got a cyclical motion; they’ve got buoyance force; they’ve got different wavelengths that come at different angles. There’s no conceptual agreement … as to how you’re going to capture the energy.”

Given the potential payoff, however, people keep seeking new solutions. Inna Braverman, co-founder and CEO of the Israeli startup Eco Wave Power, thinks that early wave-power pioneers erred in trying to work far offshore. “The price was sky-high,” she says. “You need divers; you need to put all the conversion equipment inside the actual floaters that are in the middle of the sea.” Her company instead affixes wave-driven generators to onshore features like breakwaters. A pilot project in Gibraltar has been providing power for roughly 100 homes since 2016 at a fraction of the cost of offshore wave projects, she says. And the company is ramping up, with megawatt-level projects in Portugal and, most recently, the Port of Los Angeles.

Whether it’s moving on a wave or via the tide, water seems an integral part of the future energy equation. “The low-hanging fruit of wind and solar has been plucked,” says Cagney. “To get to net zero, we’re going to need every renewables resource we’ve got.” And as the global impacts of the Russian invasion of Ukraine underscore, energy security requires having a diversity of inputs. “There’s an advantage in having an energy source driven by a different sort of forces, because it means they don’t all align at the same time,” says Forrest. “If the wind doesn’t blow, it doesn’t stop the tide from flowing.”

#tidal power #tide power #tides #tide turbines #green energy #shetland #orkney islands #oh brave new world

[meowww-ffxiv]

Before the big great revelations in 6.1 onwards, Mordred contracted sentient voidsents who wished to escape the brutal, endless "existence" of the Thirteenth, carried their souls over to the Source, and asked them to do some basic tasks to fulfill the contract before he returned them to the lifestream.

He used his house in the Goblet for the experimental voidgates that would bring them over, hence getting himself evicted once it was found out...

But that was his small way of helping beings who were part of a problem so grand Mordred couldn't even IMAGINE how they'd go about solving it. So he did this -- what he could do, which wasn't much, but certainly more than nothing.

In that house with its shuttered windows and locked door, Mordred also stored knowledge he figured was going to get him arrested, along with mementos too important and too painful to let go of. Stories he never told anyone, not even Theodore.

Theodore disliked the house because of it, because even he didn't have the key. None of the Scions knew where it was aside from Theodore, G'raha, and Tataru. But none of them had ever been inside either. They understood that they weren't invited, and knew Mordred was intensely private when it came to things that hurt, and didn't wish to cross his boundaries, et cetera.

But now it was gone.

So Mordred moved the whole debacle to his Island Sanctuary.

The mementos and the stories he never told anyone else, he moved them into the Baldesion Annex for archive.

It was... It was an open invitation, to be read. To be discovered.

Only Krile had read them so far, though.

#and voidsents who at the end of their contract wanted to persist 'in a different form' mordred inlaid their souls into staves of wood #and planted them in the black shroud with permission from e-sumi-yan #but that was already covered in another post so i wasnt gonna repeat it #meowdred got emergency undertaker/priest training during the calamity to provide some kind of dignity and propriety #to the hundreds of casualties and he still to this day paid a lot of attention to proper sendoffs and funerary rites #meowdred surana

[mariacallous]

Expect a diplomatic sandstorm when world leaders and their ministers meet in Dubai, United Arab Emirates (UAE) in late November and early December for the next global climate summit. The gathering—known as the 28th Conference of the Parties (COP28)—could prove the most contentious round of climate talks in almost a decade and also test the effectiveness of the 2015 Paris Agreement in tackling the biggest climate challenges.

The UAE, which will preside over the negotiations, has signaled its intention to use COP28 to craft major outcomes on at least two extremely challenging geopolitical climate issues: establishing new global goals for greening the energy economy and clarifying the financial assistance that rich nations should provide poorer nations to facilitate and incentivize climate action. Whether COP28 will be remembered for breakthroughs in these areas is difficult to predict.

As over 75 percent of global climate pollution comes from burning fossil fuels—which release carbon dioxide and methane, the two largest climate pollutants—one might expect that over the past three decades of global climate negotiations the international community would have reached some agreement on their future use. Not so. For decades, nations have disagreed vigorously about how and when to reduce fossil fuel emissions—and even whether ending reliance on coal, oil, and gas is necessary.

Entering COP28, the European Union, United States, several other developed nations, and many small island states (which are extremely vulnerable to severe storms and sea levels rising) are calling for a rapid transition to renewable energy. They want COP28 to establish nonbinding dates for ending the “unabated” use of fossil fuels—consumption of these fuels without simultaneously capturing, storing, and/or repurposing climate pollution. That’s a big deal, because today, virtually all emissions from oil, gas, and coal are unabated and abatement technologies are not yet affordable or globally scalable. Many of these nations are also now proposing that states pledge to end the construction of new coal plants immediately and establish a date for shuttering existing ones. Some developing nations, including African states, argue that new fossil fuel goals should not apply initially to the least-developed nations, who they maintain need access to all energy sources to escape poverty. Still other countries, including Russia, China, and Saudi Arabia, oppose setting specific dates for phasing out fossil fuels at this time, arguing that doing so would unfairly single out one source of climate pollution while ignoring others, and be contrary to the spirit of the Paris Agreement, which allows every nation to decide for itself what climate technologies and policies to pursue.

Although some nations have long called for ending fossil fuel use, ignoring the fossil fuel elephant in the room will be difficult at COP28. The Paris Agreement requires that the international community assess every five years, starting in 2023, the adequacy of global climate action. The results of this year’s assessment, known as the “global stocktake,” were a foregone conclusion—scientists agree that the world is not doing enough to avoid potentially unmanageable and catastrophic climate change. What remains unclear—and politically interesting—is what, if anything, world leaders and their ministers will do in response. Some argue that failing to come up with a meaningful plan to raise climate ambition at COP28 could raise questions about the effectiveness and legitimacy of the Paris Agreement. As phasing down global use of fossil fuels would do more than anything else to help close the gap between what science requires and what nations have done thus far, COP28 seems likely to provide the first real global debate about the future of fossil fuels.

Earlier this fall, Western nations failed to secure the support of the full G-20 for phasing out unabated fossil fuels, with Russia, China, and Saudi Arabia actively opposing. China—currently the world’s largest climate polluter—seems immovable on this point. When Chinese President Xi Jinping and U.S. President Joe Biden met in San Francisco in mid-November, the bilateral statement their climate envoys produced had no new quantitative targets or deadlines on fossil fuel consumption. The United States and China did agree the world should triple global annual investments in renewable energy by 2030. While that is necessary, it will not be sufficient to decarbonize the energy economy. With China dug in, it’s safe to predict that COP28 probably will not produce a formal global consensus on dates for phasing down unabated fossil fuels in general or even coal specifically.

While a global consensus may prove elusive, COP28 could still deliver progress on this issue. The United States and EU appear more willing than ever to shine a spotlight on China’s failure to rein in its growing fossil fuel use, particularly its construction of roughly two new coal plants per week. At COP28, the Western allies are trying to rally a broad coalition of “high ambition” nations, made up of developed and developing nations willing to commit to blocking construction of new coal plants and retiring existing ones. It’s possible that the trans-Atlantic allies will recruit dozens or even one hundred nations to join the voluntary plurilateral fossil fuel pledge, particularly if accommodations are made for the least developed nations. Should this occur, China’s refusal to be part of the group will be noticed and covered by the global media. That’s significant, because until now China has managed to avoid taking the blame for the slow pace of global climate diplomacy.

The second storm in Dubai could be about money. Traditionally, developed nations have provided funds to developing nations to both help them adapt to climate change and mitigate increases in climate pollution. During COP28, nations are expected to argue over at least three issues relating to this international climate finance.

The first dispute will be over the adequacy of total climate funding. In 2009, donor countries agreed to mobilize by 2020 $100 billion a year to support climate action in the developing world. While international climate finance has more than doubled and some say tripled over this decade and a half, donor nations failed to reach the $100 billion mark until this year, although the official accounting for 2023 may not be known until 2025. Thanks to recent analysis by the International Energy Agency and others, we now know that greening the energy economy will require mobilizing an additional $2.7 trillion annually from public and private sources. It’s difficult to know what share of that total needs to come from public coffers, but most experts agree that $100 billion in public funding will not suffice to decarbonize the developing world; more than double that may be required over the next decade, although there’s no global consensus on the number at this time. Most likely, COP28 will kick the can down the road on a major new funding pledge, such as by agreeing that nations should agree on a new funding target in 2024 or 2025.

The second dispute over money will center on whether developed nations should do a better job of delivering climate aid to the least-developed nations, particularly for climate adaptation and resilience. Today, only a tiny fraction of international climate finance goes to the poorest nations—3.7 percent by some estimates. Rapidly developing emerging economies gobble up the lion’s share. Over the past decade, in addition, only 23 percent of international climate finance funds adaptation and resilience programs instead of emissions mitigation. This is because reducing climate pollution helps people in donor countries, too, whereas most adaptation funding primarily benefits local communities in poor nations. Plus, reducing emissions means less climate change and less need for adaptation. With climate change driving international migration from Africa and elsewhere, however, developed nations are starting to understand the need for more adaptation and resilience funding. But it’s not at all clear that nations are ready to agree at COP28 on how to rebalance climate aid and direct a larger share to the poorest nations.

The third international climate finance controversy at COP28 will relate to operationalizing the new “loss and damage” fund nations agreed in 2022 to create. Unlike traditional climate aid, the loss and damage fund is meant to provide financial assistance to developing nations that are already suffering from adverse climate impacts, such as more severe hurricanes, floods, droughts, and sea level rise. For the past several months, nations have argued over how much money should go into the fund, how the fund should be capitalized, who should decide how funds are spent, and where the funds should sit to protect against waste, fraud, and abuse. Earlier this month, a likely compromise emerged. If nations at COP28 accept the proposed deal, contributions to the new fund will be voluntary and the fund will be managed provisionally by the World Bank, but developing nations will have a major role in determining how funds are spent. Loss and damage negotiations at COP28, therefore, are likely to center on the biggest issue—whether donor nations should commit to capitalize the fund at a particular quantitative level. Developing nations want that clarity and accountability; developed countries would prefer to keep things vague.

The United States may prove to be the largest obstacle to reaching agreement on all three of these international climate finance issues. The Biden administration presumably would prefer to delay decisions on big new foreign aid programs until after the U.S. presidential election in November 2024, since Republicans would surely use any new pledges against the president in the general election. Climate aid, like all foreign aid, is unpopular with voters and was the reason Donald Trump gave for pulling the United States out of the Paris Agreement. In addition, at COP28, the Biden administration will likely worry about whether the United States could deliver on any new climate finance pledge. The Republican-controlled House of Representatives is highly unlikely to increase climate aid. Unfortunately for the president and climate envoy John Kerry, the world is aware of this and increasingly frustrated with America’s perceived inability to lead on climate finance. Developing nations could stage a walkout during the talks. Many climate advocates will protest what they will describe as U.S. or Western obstruction.

Together, the United States and China, the world’s two largest economies, account for 45 percent of global energy emissions. As the preceding analysis demonstrates, these nations play a major role in shaping the speed of global climate action and the outcomes at climate talks. At COP28, look for both nations to be somewhat on the defensive, despite the recent U.S.-China statement on enhancing climate cooperation.

China should be doing more to wean itself off of coal, and its failure to commit to doing so—assuming China stands firm—will erode its claim to global leadership. The United States is now the world’s leading producer of oil and gas, and lacks a broad societal consensus to wind down those industries, despite positions taken by president Biden and John Kerry. The United States, in addition, should be doing more to mobilize funds for climate action in the developed world. Growing global awareness that the United States lacks political will on climate finance is undermining confidence in U.S. leadership once more, despite Biden’s numerous domestic climate policy victories. Each country is playing for global hearts and minds. Whereas China paints itself as fighting for developing countries to secure additional climate finance from the United States and other donor nations, in the Biden administration the United States positions itself as leading the charge to create a coherent global response to the global stocktake, including by securing more action from China. This year’s climate summit may provide an indication of which power has the upper hand on climate geopolitics.

[kilannad]

As the Stars Burn On Chapter 25

Masterlist. Ao3.

Rocketman

“Lucy!” Gajeel skidding to a stop on his knees, pressing his hands against her face and tilting her this way and that. “I thought you said you were fine.”

“I am.”

Laxus dropped down next to her, burying his face into her shoulder. Even muffled, she could hear his worry. “Then why the fuck can we smell your blood?”

She cringed, looking away. The absolute smack down they'd received at the hands of CP9 still smarted; she didn't care much for the pain outside of how it might slow her down in the coming fight, but the fact that she hadn't even managed to get a hit in ate at her. Surely after how far she'd come, she should be able to do better.

“Chopper's already patched me up,” she promised. She ran her hand through Gajeel's hair, coming back soot covered. Laxus, now that she looked, was similarly disastrous. “What the hell happened to you two?!”

“We helped evacuate the docks,” Laxus explained. His face shuttered, something haunted in his eyes. “It...wasn't pretty.”

She swallowed, closing her eyes. She prayed whatever souls had passed would find their way to peace. Next to them, the train roared to life with a rumble that echoed her own rage. Likely hundreds dead, all so CP9 could leave without being seen.

Kokoro had directed them all towards another underground storage area. Unlike Franky's base, this one was filled, though not with a ship. Instead, a short, gleaming silver sea train with a pointed shark figurehead awaited them. Rocketman had been a prototype to Puffing Tom but Kokoro got it up and running and was certain she could get them through Aqua Laguna and to Enies Lobby. Chopper had patched everyone up best he could, and Nami had sourced food and booze for them all to refuel on. All that was left was for Luffy to give the order.

“Oi, wait!” Zambei, Franky's right hand, stumbled in with the twins right behind him. “Straw Hat, is it true? Was big bro really taken?”

“Yes,” Lucy answered, Luffy busy stuffing his face. “But we're going after our crewmate anyway, so we'll bring him back.”

“We can't let you do that alone,” Kiwi argued.

“He's our big bro!” Mozu agreed.

“Let us come with you,” Zambei added. “We just need to hook are King Yagara's to you and the Franky Family will have your back.”

Pursing her lips, Lucy considered the offer. It would be undeniably helpful to have more people, yet she didn't think the Franky Family had the high level fighters the Straw Hats boasted. Enies Lobby wasn't any marine base; it was one of the three pillars of the World Government, a fortress of fighters and tactitians. In short—the Straw Hats were going into a death trap.

“Eh, sure,” Luffy said. “Why not?” The three dismantlers took off before Lucy could argue the point, but in the end it wouldn't matter. What Luffy said, Luffy got. With a contented sigh, Luffy stood with a stretch. “Yoish! Let's go.”

“Before you go,” Paulie announced, stepping down the staircase. He tossed something over to Luffy. “Give that to Lucci. And tell him he's fired.”

“You aren't going to insist on coming?” Zoro asked.

“Normally I would. But Water 7 is a mess and we need all the help we can. As Vice President, I have to stay.” He bit down hard on his cigar. “But make no mistake. You make it clear that Galley-La will kill any of those CP9 assholes that show their faces again.”

“Noted,” Laxus said. “Good luck.”

“Says the man sailing straight towards hell.”

With all the interuptions taken care of, the remaining Straw Hats loaded onto Rocketman, Kokoro settling into the conductors room. “Alright, pirates! Rocketman is taking off, final destination the Judicial Island, Enies Lobby! When I get us on the tracks, we'll be set. Until then, hold on to your everything.”

“Here,” Nami announced as the doors closed. “I got everyone a change of clothes.”

Rocketman began moving, steam building and releasing with a loud whistle. Laxus and Gajeel both downed the pills Chopper gave them like two men dying as they went flying out of the warehouse and down into the ocean itself. Rocketman traveled above the water, Kokoro masterfully handling him as she guided him towards the rails that floated just under the water. The storm was a full living thing now, filled with wrath and hatred as they went straight into the heart of it. The Franky Family, with two massive, sea king-sized yagara's, attached themselves to the rear of the train.

Laxus and Gajeel changed into the clothes they'd warn to meet Franky in, while Lucy switched into a black skirt and purple sweetheart cut shirt with a white shawl over it. Zoro had taken off the shirt he usually wore under his haramaki and thrown on a tan leather jacket he wore open; Nami had switched to a crop top and jean jacket with a skirt and Luffy, in true Luffy fashion, had only another version of his usual shorts and shirt. Usopp and Chopper, similarly, had stuck to their old comfort clothes, adding only a cape and pink vest, respectfully.

After everyone had changed, Lucy realized that Usopp had retreated to a back corner, face buried in his hands as he trembled all over. She took a step, only to have Laxus hold her back, shaking his head as he approached Usopp himself. Trusting him to have it in hand, she checked on the rest of the crew. Zoro and Luffy had gone outside to deal with an incoming wave, just as Rocketman landed on the rails, speed quatrupling easily. Kokoro joined them in the main cart, easily revealing they were now on a runaway train with no chance to stop. Lily was comforting Chopper while Nami checked her Climatact.

With nothing else to do, Lucy started prepping her own arsenal.

☉

Sanji hissed a breath between his teeth, cracking his spine. Cipher Pole agents were no joke, and these idiots weren't even the big wigs. The boxer, shitty as he was, had gotten a few too many good hits in, leaving Sanji aching and bruised. Puffing Tom pierced through the storm easily, sending them all closer and closer to Enies Lobby and Robin's execution. Lucy had dropped contact with him, opting to save as much of her magic as possible; it meant he was going in blind, the calvary charge to rescue a lady in need.

Six seas, he hoped she was okay. And if she wasn't? Not even the fire of hell would stop him from exacting vengence.

☉

Jonathan was glad that he was taken to one of the upper offices in the Tower of Law. It was well known among the upper ranks that if you were called to judgement by Judge Baskerville, the decision had already been made. Instead though, he sat down with a very severe looking but pleasant CP1 agent. While CP1 was likely the weakest in terms of strength, they were especially hated by marines for one simple reason; they conducted internal affairs.

“Vice Admiral 'Chessmaster' Jonathan,” Agent Linna began, serving tea. “Why don't you start by telling me how you managed to let not one, but two captured POI escape your prison?”

Ah. Perhaps not as pleasant as he hoped.

☉

Sanji slammed into the wall, groaning. The smell of ramen was nearly overwhelming, second only to the offence he felt at this CP7 idiot daring to use food as a weapon. He'd had a fairly good feeling after he'd managed to free Franky and the two of them had disconnected the last two cars; of course, then he'd walked in to someone who'd dare to call himself both a cook and a fighter.

Needlessly to say, he'd sent Franky ahead via the top of the train car. This idiot was his.

☉

“Is that the sea train?”

“No way,” Nami countered. “It's way too soon.”

Laxus tilted his head, focusing his hearing in. He could make out two floating train cars, but as he sorted through the noise they were making, it quickly became clear it wasn't any of their people. “Only marines.”

“Okay,” Luffy hummed. “Zoro, cut it.”

“Sure.”

It probably said a lot about their life that no one even blinked at the order—

or the following destruction.

“Hold on,” Gajeel called, pulling his head back in the car. “There's someone walking up ahead on the tracks.”

“Huh,” Laxus grunted, listening to the truly empassioned rant of someone who announced himself as Captain T-Bone. “I didn't realize there was such a thing as a marine that actually cared about civilians.”

Above, standing on the tip of the train, Zoro tied his bandana on. “Too bad he's standing in our way.”

☉

Franky grunted at the slash of razor air to his chest. The weasel looking freak—Nero, some rookie CP9 ass—was too fast for him to hit but too weak to do any real damage. It left them in an awful standstill, neither able to get something over on the other, but equally unwilling to back down. Franky was doing his best to conserve cola, but there was only so much he could do.

☉

“Nico Robin is still unsconscious in the first car,” Corgy announced. Kaku didn't say anything, only watched as Lucci dismissed him. With Nico still sedated and them closing in on Enies Lobby every second, it was only a matter of time before this mission was over. He'd be assigned another soon enough.

He closed his eyes, only to have blood flash behind his eyelids. Kaku had killed and been witness to enough death that few things haunted him anymore. (A lie he told himself to get through the day.) Iceburg...Iceburg might be the only one he regreted. He hadn't spoken against Lucci when he'd decided to kill the man—they had a mission and they would complete it at any cost. He just wished things had turned out differently.

He hoped his next assignment had something to do with ships. He'd enjoyed being a shipwright more than he probably should have. It was dangerous, they'd always been lectured, to get attached to a cover. They were just faces and weapons on which any story could be told. Getting attached to somewhere meant getting attached to someone and that meant weakness. Weapons with weaknesses broke and the World Government didn't waste resources fixing them.

Across the isle, Kalifa caught his eye. They'd grown up together, had gone on so many missions that they could talk without a single word passing between them. Lucci trusted Kaku as his second but Kalifa was probably the closest thing to a friend Kaku had.

This is our job, her eyebrow said.

This mission is shit, his rolled shoulder pointed out.

Our lives are shit, her pressed lips shouted. He had to conceed the point. Kalifa was a legacy CP9 agent going back three generations; the second she was conceived, her life had been chosen for her. Kaku, as the bastard result of a CP7 agent disobeying orders and going AWAL, had been paying for his father's sins since he was dropped on River Island at five. They'd been forged for the sake of justice and, as Lucci was so fond of reminding them, Justice was what the Government decided.

He tilted his head, the barely there movement conveying more than he could ever bring himself to say. Kalifa looked away, recrossing her legs. It was the only response she could give.

Do you ever wonder if we could be free?

Dreams don't come true for monsters.

☉

Lucy rerolled her whip, as ready as she'd ever be. She'd learned the extent of Hóu's abilities when she'd brought Shé out earlier; Gemini knew their job should the worst happen; she'd rested and conserved as much of her magic as possible; and Chopper had stuffed her full of more pain pills than he'd wanted, knowing as he did that her sitting out wasn't an option.

There was still a miniscule chance of Sanji managing to grab Franky and Robin both before they caught up with the sea train, but they all knew how likely that was. The sheer power of CP9 couldn't be overstated; they were stronger than anyone she had ever seen before, except Gildarts and Gramps. She trusted that they would win, though. A second failure wasn't an option.

☉

Kuzan pulled his sleeping mask down, ignoring the saluting marine at his door. The marine—one of Garp's newest protogees—didn't seem to care.

“Admiral Aokiji, sir! Fleet Admiral Sengoku would like you to report to his office.”

“Tell him I'm doing paperwork.”

The kid, admirably, did not point out how this was a bold-faced lie. “He says it has to do with Nico Robin, sir.” Kuzan went very still. When it was clear he still wasn't going to get up, the kid added, “He, uh, also told you to say, quote 'He can either help bring Nico Robin in or he can take her place in Impel Down' end quote.”

Kuzan considered the likelihood of that being an exageration compared to Sengoku's tendencies to be a hardass.

With a sigh, he got up.

☉

Sanji slammed into a wall; he was honestly getting sick of the feeling. He and Franky had managed to defeat their opponents and get to the second car, where all of CP9 was stationed. The only problem? When wonderful Lucy had warned him that CP9 was strong, she had undersold them. They were downright monsters and there was no way he and Franky could get through four of them. Franky seemed to have the same idea.

“Your crew is on the way right?”

“Yeah. We're not letting them keep Robin.”

“Alright. Then this probably won't kill you.” Before Sanji could react, Franky had picked him and tossed him out of the train, straight onto the tracks. Unable to stop, Sanji landed in the ocean, coming up sputtering, just in time to see Kaku restrain Franky as the Puffing Tom sped away.

Cursing, he found the train tracks and held on desperately, fighting against the storming ocean. Luckily for him, it didn't take long for the Rocketman to become visible and for Luffy to offer him a hand up.

Getting in was easy, but facing the reality that he'd failed? That was harder.

“I just don't get it,” Usopp spit out. “Why take Robin specifically? Or Franky?”

“Pluton,” Lucy murmured. “They...They asked Franky where the blueprints for Pluton were.”

“What's Pluton?” Zambai asked.

“It's a battleship,” Nami explained. “But not just any battleship. One of three ancient weapons from the Void Century said to be able to destroy the world.”

“Did Robin tell you?” Lucy said.

Nami nodded, sitting down heavily. “Yeah. Her nightmare that I saw it...it was horrifying. She told me, the next night when she woke up screaming, what the story was.” Tearing up, she shook her head. “There is nothing that scares Robin more than the World Government hurting us. Especially CP9.”

“But why?” Sanji demanded. “She has to know we'll always come for her.”

“Because she's already dealt with CP9 before,” Nami told them. “When they destroyed her home island with a buster call.”

☉

When Nico Robin was two years old, her mother left. If she ever had a father, she didn't remember him. Professor Clover took care of her sometimes, but he was old and more of a crazy uncle than a true dad, so her mom left Robin with her aunt and uncle. Uncle Oak was kind, and gentle, but he let Aunt Roji take control and Roji hated Robin. It was not a nice childhood and when she ate her Devil Fruit it got even worse.

Ohara was a beautiful island in the West Blue with an easy going mayor and scholars that stayed cloistered within the five thousand year old Tree of Knowledge. None of the civilians knew what a Devil Fruit was and the other children called her a freak for her powers. She spent all her days at the Tree, learning to be a scholar and archiologists just like her mother in hopes that, one day, she would go out to sea with her. But Ohara had a secret and it was a deadly one.

The scholars studied all history but what they studied most of all was the Void Century using the Poneglyph they'd hidden away beneath the tree. Robin, being curious and with her powers, had long since learned of the stone and taught herself to read to secret language in hopes of impressing her professors. It didn't work out so well.

Professor Clover was furious and terrified when he'd learned what Robin had done, just after she'd officially been declared a scholar of Ohara. He and the rest of the professors stopped letting her in the tree or encouraging her curiousity. She was truly and deeply alone.

Which is when she met Vice Admiral Jaguar D. Saul.

Saul was a giant and a marine that had gone AWAL in objection to the execution of Nico Olvia's entire crew and her own arrest. But when he met Robin he didn't call her a devil or freak or any other nasty thing. He was her friend and he taught her to laugh even when times were hard.

There was one problem though; CP9, led by an awful man named Spandine, had discovered what the scholars were researching and had come to put a stop to it. In pursuit of that, they called a buster call; a marine attack featuring ten battleships and five Vice Admirals with the soul purpose of annihalating everything in their way. Usually, only Admirals and above had the power to order one using special golden den-den but just that once, CP9 had been given permission. Every man, woman and child on that island was killed, Olvia, having just returned, included. Saul was frozen by then Vice Admiral Kuzan but, in keeping with Saul's final wishes, let Robin escape.

Eight years old, having watched her mother and everyone she had ever cared about killed by the so-called Justice of the world, Nico Robin ran. And for the last twenty years, she hadn't been able to stop.

☉

Nami paused, wiping at her eyes. “That's the story. That's why they want her so bad. She's the only survivor of a genocide they commited and they're set on finishing the job.”

The entire train wobbled with the force of Luffy's punch. His face was cast in a dark shadow by his hat, visibly steaming in anger. “They're taking her to Enies Lobby?”

Lucy nodded sharply, pulling her hair back into a high pony tail. She felt raw and exposed, like someone had peeled back her skin. There were few things she hated more in this world than slavery but she decided that the World Government just went to the top of her shit list. “Two gates block the way into the central island, where 10,000 soldiers are stationed; beyond that, we need to access the courthouse to drop down the bridge to the Tower of Justice which guards the way to the Bridge of Hesitation. From there, the Gates of Justice from which there are only two destinations; the underwater gallows, Impel Down, and Marine HQ, Marineford. Either is a death sentence.”

“Do you all get that?” Nami asked sharply. “If Robin crosses the Gates of Justice, it's over. She'll be out of our reach.”

“Got it,” Luffy announced. “Laxus?”

“Right. Lucy managed to get her hands on a map of Enies back on Navarone, and it llookssomething like this.” Nami offered up the loose sketch of an island for Laxus to spread on the floor before them all. Of course, what Nami declared mediocure sketch, Marine cartographers declared their magnum opus. Laxus dragged his finger across as he talked. “The island is floating above a giant hole in the ocean, nd is made of two parts. But step one is crashing to a stop.”

“We're crashing?!” Chopper shreeked.

“There aren't any breaks,” Zoro pointed out. “Besides, best way to do it.”

“Sure, except it's not that easy. There's a seastone fence that surrounds the entire entryway. Lily will fly himself and Gajeel over and pull it down.”

“Hate to say it, but I can't break seastone, and it'll take too long to eat it.”

“You don't have to take it down all the way. Just angle it.”

“So we can use it as a ramp,” Sanji concluded. “Smart.”

“That should get us past the island gate. While Luffy goes ahead—beccause we all know he's not waiting around—we'll help the Franky Family clear the inner gate. Half of their numbers will stay behind to hold the exit with one of their yagaras. The rest will move forward through the island to take the courthouse. The Straw Hats will spread through the streets and rendevou there, so we aren't a sitting target. We're not sure what the mechanic for dropping the bridge is, but we'll need to find it so we can get over to the Tower of Law. This is probably where CP9 will be holding Robin—and Franky—until the escort from Marine HQ arives and opens the Gates. We spread out and take them down, one by one.”

“The pigeon guy is mine,” Luffy snarled.

“I have dips on Discount-Usopp,” Zoro added. At the various raised brows, he said, “He's a swordsman.”

Lucy didn't know how Zoro knew that, but she wasn't about to argue with him. The same way they all knew Luffy always got the strongest oopponent, Zoro got the swordsman.

Laxus nodded. “So be it. Lucy will gather what information she can as we move through while Usopp moves to the top of the Tower. You're our lookout; if they get Robin on that bridge, you use a mini-den den to call Lucy, and she contacts the rest of the crew. Buy us as much time as you can, Usopp.”

Swallowing heavily, he nodded. “I'll do what I need to.”

“What happens when we get Robin and big bro?” Kiwi asked.

“We retreat,” Laxus said immediately. “We aren't reavers—our objective is to save Robin and Franky and get out alive. This isn't like G-8, where there's only a single high-ranking officer. There is no telling who or what is on that island outside of CP9. We take one of the ships and circle around to pick up the Franky Family before getting out of dodge.” Pulling back, he looked up at Luffy, deadly serious. The tension spiked. “Before this, we've been pests in their ears, just another crew of pirate rookies. But this?” He waved his hand at the map, the crew, the invasion they'd planned. “This might as well be a declaration of war.”

Luffy didn't flinch. “They took Robin.”

It was as simple as that. The Marines had taken one of theirs, and they weren't leaving until they got her back.

“I'm glad that's all settled,” Kokoro declared with a laugh. “Because we've reached our final destination. Welcome to the Judicial Island, Enies Lobby!”

“Whoa, it looks really cool!”

“Meow!”

“Chimney! Gombei! What are you two doing here?!”

#as the stars burn on #one piece fanfic #laxus dreyar #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail fanfic #gajeel redfox #laxus x lucy x gajeel

[perichat]

"My math could be off on this, but it also appears Goncharov has more fanworks than all other Martin Scorsese films combined (as of posting: Taxi Driver has 55, The Departed has 48, Shutter Island has 27, and every other Scorsese film I checked has less than 20)." Hey, do you have any hunch on why that would be the case? Like... don't Scorsese fans know AO3 exists? Are his movies just... not really good for fanfiction?

It's probably a combination of both

I think Scorsese's biggest film fans are more interested in film theory and analyzing the already existing the source material rather than taking that source material and creating something new with it. While there isn't that much fanfic, there's plenty of highly viewed video essays on Youtube about Scorsese films.

Conversely, I think fanfiction writers either aren't interested in or aren't inspired by Scorsese's work. Fanfic writers are generally more drawn to expansive universes with a lot of room to play around in, as opposed to standalone films about organized crime. Also, going off of what I see in the Goncharov Ao3 tag, it seems like most works center around 1. Katya being a girlboss and/or 2. the sexual tension between Goncharov and Andrey. And... while I'm not the most well-versed in Scorsese's works, I don't think strong female characters and homoerotic subtext are super-present themes in his films.

Also of note: some of Scorsese's work is based on real events/people (ex: Goodfellas, Wolf of Wall Street, The Irishman). Rpf is a somewhat niche fanfic interest, and most people who write it seem to prefer their favorite musicians/athletes/twitch streamers as opposed to mob bosses and Wall Street bankers.

#goncharov #unreality #anonymous

[freequizbank]

Inquest to examine Manus Island Sudanese refugee death _ FreeQuizBank.com - Free Exam Practice Questions for LANTITE Numeracy, Mathematical Reasoning - OC, Selective and Scholarship Tests @acereduau #NSWeducation #AusEdu @AusGovEducation @ServiceNSW

[vprogresseducation]

Inquest to examine Manus Island Sudanese refugee death _ FreeQuizBank.com - Free Exam Practice Questions for LANTITE Numeracy, Mathematical Reasoning - OC, Selective and Scholarship Tests @acereduau #NSWeducation #AusEdu @AusGovEducation @ServiceNSW

[luxuryhomebuilders]

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Architects, contractors, and interior decorators of these businesses can construct a harmonic, textured, and opulent French provincial homes that facilitates easy living and a contemporary family lifestyle. French provincial architecture emanates a timeless warmth and elegance that, when combined with contemporary furnishings, produces a luxurious living space. A Mansard style roofs, rendered exterior walls, timber windows, parquet flooring, statement kitchen islands, natural stone, ornamental wrought iron, or shutters, rustic wood, and warm, natural tones with gold accents are all characteristics of these homes.

Significance of Expert Knock Down Rebuilds:

According to verified portals, a knock down rebuild is when your builder knocks down your current home, clears the site, prepares it, and then builds you a brand-new house to suit your evolving family's demands. This enables you to stay in the neighbourhood you love while designing a new house specifically to fit your existing lifestyle. One of the key benefits of choosing to demolish your current home and build a new one is that it might be less expensive than upgrading. While tearing down and starting over with a new house offers many financial advantages, it also improves your quality of life. KDRs are a terrific choice for families that adore their current residence and would be reluctant to move.

In conclusion, construction firms provide design, building, and other services in contemporary designs. Anyone looking for these services can get in touch with a local construction business.

Source

#knock down rebuild Melbourne #French provincial homes

[brewyork]

Coney Island Brewing to close Brooklyn brewery and taproom

The brewery of New York’s playland is closing up shop. Coney Island Brewing Company will serve its last beer at its Brooklyn taproom next month, after eight years occupying the space under the third base stands at Maimonides Park, the home of the Brooklyn Cyclones.

It’s the second time Coney Island Brewery has shuttered in the neighborhood. Its previous incarnation, a short-lived “world’s smallest taproom,” operated a few blocks away in 2012, before being damaged in Superstorm Sandy. That iteration eventually moved to Clifton Park, New York with co-owned Shmaltz Brewing Co. before the Coney Island brand was sold to Boston Beer in 2013. Boston Beer, determined to have a presence for the brand in its namesake neighborhood, eventually opened a brewery at then-MCU Park in 2015, expanding it further into an adjoining space in 2019.

The expansion was a gamble just before the pandemic, and while the brewery survived Covid, sources at Boston Beer say there’s no path to profitability for Coney Island in the space moving forward. The brand, however, will live on. The brewery’s core packaged offerings are brewed at Dogfish Head in Milton, Delaware, and will continue to be distributed throughout the New York area.

The final day of business for Coney Island’s taproom will be November 9th.

[jcmarchi]

Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering Owner Hasbro Is Laying Off 1100 Employees

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/dungeons-dragons-magic-the-gathering-owner-hasbro-is-laying-off-1100-employees/

Dungeons & Dragons, Magic: The Gathering Owner Hasbro Is Laying Off 1100 Employees

Hasbro, the parent company behind Wizards of the Coast, which itself is responsible for both Dungeons & Dragons and Magic: The Gathering, is laying off 1100 employees, as reported by Dicebreaker and The Wall Street Journal. The company, which is also behind the Transformers franchise (toys and other media),  announced this decision yesterday, on December 11. 

Hasbro CEO Chris Cocks called the need for layoffs in an email sent to staff a “lever we must pull to keep Hasbro healthy” and “a last resort.” As noted by Dicebreaker, Cocks became CEO of Hasbro in February of last year and earns roughly $1.5 million in salary in the position – his total earnings for 2022 amounted to $9.4 million, however. 

[embedded content]

“While we’re confident in the future of Hasbro, the current environment demands that we do more, even if these choices are some of the hardest we have to make,” Cocks writes in the email, which The Wall Street Journal published. “I know this news is especially difficult during the holiday season. There is no sugar-coating how hard this is, particularly for the employees directly affected.” 

Dicebreaker reports that laid-off employees will be notified sometime over the next six weeks and that Hasbro will vacate a Rhode Island office as a result of cost-cutting measures next month. While Hasbro is laying off 1,100 employees out of its 6,400 employees – it laid off 800 people earlier this year – it’s unclear which of the company’s teams, including Wizards of the Coast, are affected. Last week, Payday 3 developer Starbreeze announced a partnership with Wizards of the Coast to develop a multiplayer co-op title set in the D&D universe. 

[embedded content]

These Hasbro layoffs join an unfortunately ever-growing list of layoffs affecting workers in 2023 in the games industry and games-adjacent industries. Just yesterday, Embracer Group officially shuttered its reformed TimeSplitters team, Free Radical Design. A few weeks ago, 505 Games parent company Digital Bros laid off 30 percent of its staff. 

Last month, Amazon Games laid off 180 staff members. In early November, we learned that Ubisoft laid off more than 100 employees. The week before that, roughly 100 employees were laid off at Destiny 2 developer Bungie. 

In January, Microsoft laid off 10,000 employees amidst its ongoing $69 billion acquisition of Activision Blizzard, which it completed last month. 

In August, Striking Distance Studios, the team behind last year’s The Callisto Protocol, laid off more than 30 employees, and that same month, Mass Effect and Dragon Age developer BioWare laid off 50 employees, including long-time studio veterans. The following month, in September, Immortals of Aveum developer Ascendant Studios laid off roughly 45% of its staff. 

Just last month, The Last of Us developer Naughty Dog laid off at least 25 employees, and Telltale Games underwent layoffs as well, although an actual number of laid-off employees has not yet been revealed. And in late October, Dreams developer Media Molecule laid off 20 employees.

The hearts of Game Informer‘s staff are with the people laid off from Hasbro, along with everyone else who has lost a job this year.

[Source: Dicebreaker via The Wall Street Journal]

#000 #2022 #2023 #Activision #Amazon #amp #billion #Blizzard #CEO #cutting #december #Design #Developer #dog #email #employees #Environment #Future #game #games #how #Industries #Industry #it #layoffs #list #mass #media #members #Microsoft

[descensionstar]

@amerhauser ✧ Court of Fontaine

"is there any way I can tempt you into an interview? your style is something else, not one I've seen anywhere while abroad. outlanders have their own way of doing things but this is something else entirely. and I won't be the only one who's dying to hear your thoughts. why the regulars at the Opera Epiclese would be fascinated — it isn't like any costume I've seen for performances for quite some time. oh, wait, hold that pose for a moment".

at times like these, it was debateable whether the chatter or Kamera shutter were faster at work — and there was only one possibility as to who the source of both might be. the exhilarated tone captivated both the Traveler and Paimon's senses, sending them around on the spot to sight the famed journalist practically circling a hapless woman who had become the centre of her attention. one, in fact, Lumine had seen before.

Paimon turned back again, a tiny finger extending towards their companion and the stranger. ✦she's someone else from this island you've been talking about, huh?✦

not that she'd have ever doubted the validity of Lumine's claim, but having no recollection of it herself, it was a little jarring. and then, unlike other exclusive adventures of the Traveler's, she'd been finding physical embodiments of this faraway isle and no alternative explanation. but... why were they brought to another world so far from their own? and why didn't she remember any of it?

✦hey, Charlotte!✦ she piped to draw the bespectacled woman's attention and give her subject a moment to breathe. ✦Paimon needs your help — she needs a recap on last month's Phantom Dog Thief Marceau. she's behind and can't risk getting spoiled!✦

with her diversion under way, she tugged on Lumine's nearest glove, urging her forward — and to her side did the girl advance. "sorry about her, she's... very excitable".

#amerhauser #amerhauser: Act II #Event VI: Homecoming

[ailtrahq]

Bitcoin advocate Nic Carter has come out to reiterate his support for the theory that the United States National Security Agency (NSA) had something to do with the creation of Bitcoin (BTC).On Sept. 15, Iris Energy co-founder Daniel Roberts seemingly revived the decade-old theory on X after posting screenshots of a 1996 paper titled: “How to make a mint: The cryptography of anonymous electronic cash.” The paper is one of the first known discussions of a Bitcoin-like system, which proposes using public-key cryptography to allow users to make anonymous payments without revealing their identity. The footer notes show the research paper was “prepared by NSA employees.” Sources included cryptography expert Tatsuaki Okamoto who co-invented the Okamoto–Uchiyama public key cryptosystem in 1998.On Sept. 21, Carter — a partner of Castle Island Ventures partner doubled down his support for the notion stating “I actually do believe this,” before adding:“I call it the Bitcoin lab leak hypothesis. I think it was a shuttered internal R&D project which one researcher thought was too good to lay fallow on the shelf and chose to secretly release.”Carter has actually held the theory for several years, proposing back in 2020: “If Bitcoin was written by NSA cryptographers as a monetary bioweapon, if you will, and the code escaped those sensitive confines... does that make it a virus... that escaped from a lab?”In 2021, he stated: “The only decent thing the NSA ever did from the world was let Bitcoin leak from the lab."I actually do believe this. I call it the bitcoin lab leak hypothesis. I think it was a shuttered internal R&D project which one researcher thought was too good to lay fallow on the shelf and chose to secretly release https://t.co/qXJkQTciSK— nic carter (@nic__carter) September 21, 2023 However, he went on to say that this doesn’t imply the U.S. government secretly controls all the Satoshi coins, another theory that often piggybacks on the Bitcoin / NSA conspiracy theory which suggests the NSA created a backdoor to the Bitcoin code.“In my version of this made-up idea, the researcher did it without permission of the NSA, and chose to leave the coins behind so as to preserve his anonymity.”“There’s a ton of other circumstantial evidence which supports this [theory],” he added.Meanwhile, some users drew attention to one of the cryptography academics Tatsuaki Okamoto listed in the 1996 paper, suggesting the name sounds very similar to Satoshi Nakamoto, the pseudonymous creator of Bitcoin.“The name could have been used as inspiration for satoshi. That’s not really a critical part of the theory though,” Carter said. Meanwhile, director of Intelligence at cyber security firm Krebs Stamos, Matthew Pines, believes it was most likely a “cross-fertilization of NSA crypto nerds and cipher punk nerds,” adding: “I suspect Satoshi (or at least his/their close intellectual collaborators) has close NSA work associations—but I don’t think Bitcoin itself or the white paper were officially sanctioned.”Former Goldman Sachs executive Raoul Pal has previously shared his own theory. In an interview with Impact Theory earlier this year he said: “I think the US government and the UK government invented it ... which is the NSA and the GCHQ in the UK, who are the two world centers of cryptography,”Cointelegraph’s deep dive into the conspiracy theory in August interviewed former NSA cryptanalyst Jeff Man, who said that while it was “feasible” that the NSA could have created Bitcoin as a means to gather intelligence about its enemies, it is highly doubtful. However, Man concluded that even if they did, it is likely we’ll never find out the real story behind the world’s most popular digital asset until it doesn't matter anymore. Source

[the-writer-posts]

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