#IRELANS DO SOMETHING

[theology101]

Team effort?

excitedly waiting for this

[denimbex1986]

'“Short films are something that can be sort of overlooked,” Andrew Scott tells me over the phone in his lilting Irish accent. It’s a little over two weeks before the actor, who was just in Berlin premiering Richard Linklater’s upcoming “Blue Moon,” will virtualy present a lineup of his favorite shorts at SXSW as part of a campaign with Redbreast Whiskey.

“The idea is to find talent that needs to be recognized, or just to have a light shine on it in some way,” he says. “And so we collated some films and narrowed it down to six, and I suppose what I was looking for was just singular voices.”

The lineup, which spans in genre from drama and comedy to docufiction, includes original works by up-and-coming filmmakers: “One Day This Kid” (Alexander Farah), “Entre Tormentas” (Frank Zayas), “Nervous Energy” (Eve Lui), “Sweetbriar”(Danny Rivera), “Brief Somebodies” (Andy Reid) and “I’m The Most Racist Person I Know” (Leela Varghese).

One of the six will receive the Redbreast Unhidden Award, alongside a financial grant, for which he’s already chosen a winner. Aside from the campaign’s spotlight on new talent (“The most exciting part of it is just being able to be a help in some way,” Scott says), the partnership was, of course, a natural fit because of the brand’s Irish origins.

“It’s a really exciting time for Irish people, certainly in my industry and a lot of the creative industries as well,” he says. “And I think there is a sort of confidence to the country at the moment, and the fact that this is an Irish whiskey really appealed to me.”

He’s not overstating the moment that Irish actors have had over the past few years. Paul Mescal, who starred alongside Scott in the romance fantasy film “All of Us Strangers,” Colin Farrell, Liam Neeson, Cillian Murphy, Saoirse Ronan and Barry Keoghan to name a few.

So, to link back to his Irish roots by way of whiskey just made sense. “It’s certainly part of the culture,: he says of the liquor. “It’s something that people have a real world affection for.”

Below, Scott chats about spotlighting undiscovered talent at SXSW, his enduring “hot priest” legacy and reviving his stage adaptation of Chekhov’s “Vanya” off-Broadway this spring:

Why did this partnership make sense to you? 

One of the things that immediately struck me was [it being] Irish. I’m an Irishman. It’s a really exciting time for Irish people, certainly in my industry and a lot of the creative industries as well. And I think there is a sort of confidence to the country at the moment, and the fact that this is an Irish whiskey really appealed to me. And I really like the vibe of the guys. Something that we’ve done in this campaign is throw some light on artists that have yet to be discovered, and we’re doing this partnership with South by South West. I haven’t done a lot of these kind of things before, and it just seems like the right fit.

What exactly is Irish whisky? 

It was really interesting learning about [single pot still Irish] whiskeys. And yeah, it’s certainly part of the culture. It’s something that people have a real world affection for, and a distinctive appreciation for how it’s made and all that kind of stuff. So, yeah, it’s definitely been in my family and something you kind of grow up with. So yeah, I think it’s definitely something that Irish people really appreciate. 

How do you prefer your whisky?

I’ve been asking a little bit about that because I think drinking it neat is really just understanding the difference between the types of whiskey and is something that’s just completely fascinated me. So I suppose I’m in experimenting with it. I should really get the taste of the whiskey. I think what I’m discovering is that you should drink it neat and maybe with some ice. It’s really, really, really refreshing.

Yeah, it’s probably the most sophisticated way to go about it. 

That’s me right there. 

Part of the campaign is Redbreast Unhidden, in which you’ll shareyou favorite short films from SXSW and honor one filmmaker with the ‘Redbreast Unhidden’ Award. Can you tell me a bit about that process? 

Oh, that was just incredibly exciting, and I think a really terrific way of getting involved with South by South West Film Festival. Short films are something that can be sort of overlooked. It’s hard to make a short film. The idea is to kind of find talent that needs to be recognized, or just to have a light sort of shine on it in some way. And so we collated some films and narrowed it down to five or six, and we have a winner. And I suppose what I was looking for was just singular voices. It’s incredible. Immediately you’re able to say, ‘Wow, this is somebody’ and in in just  10 minutes they’re able to really just exude their own singular voice and their own individualism. And it was really inspiring to be able to do. And to be honest, the most exciting part of that is just being able to be a help in some way, and to be able to encourage these incredible young artists. 

And you’re returning to the stage in “Vanya”…

Well, one the thing I love about it so much is that it’s so funny. Chekhov is known for being moving and everything, but he’s such an unbelievable, brilliant humorist, and I just find his stuff so, so funny. And so our show is kind of mad cap. And so I’ve been really enjoying kind of remounting it and seeing where I can improve it or I can get it better. And, you know, it’s just the gift that keeps on giving, really. So I’m very excited to do it. We’re doing it the Lucille Hotel Theater down in the West Village.  

I also have to ask you, you have an enduring legacy as the hot priest from ‘Fleabag’ Is that a badge you wear with honor? Do you get annoyed by that title? Are you over it? 

Absolutely no. I’m so proud of that show. So proud of the whole thing. There’s no bad that came out of that show. Absolutely nothing. It was completely wonderful. I just hope to work with people like that the rest of my life. Again, it’s that idea of an authorial voice. You know, immediately when people have just got something to say. That’s what audiences want. I think this idea that audiences just want this drab stuff, they don’t. I think audiences get thrilled and excited when they go, ‘Oh my god, somebody named something that I’ve felt I’ve never seen on screen before.; So that’s exactly why I think the Priest  captured people’s hearts so much. 

The Hot Priest has been compared to Adam Brody’s ‘Hot Rabbi’ in ‘Nobody Wants This.’ Did you see it?

 I did. I thought it was fantastic. Loved it. I physically loved it. It just captured the audience of imagination.'

[zulutheruler]

today and yesterday I latterly can't read because of my irelan syndrome so if they are typos I'm really sorry hopefully my phone can catch then. It's so hard to work with irelan syndrome externally a new job because I try to reat the list of things I have to do and I fiscally can't. I was at a burger place today and there was a big sign in really bold letters that sain ice cream and then below it it said Sunday and I read it out loud as ice Sunday cream and I was really confused on what that was. Also it was a new biger place and ensalada of getting a basic burger I read fried Onion burger, fun fact it did not have fried onions on it was jalapeños.man something I didn't think it would effect was reading music I'm in the marching band and I'm so happy I have it memorized because if I didn't I would be screwed.

[fictionalabyss]

Saltine.

Pairing : Crowley x Plussize!Reader

Word count : 1,930

Warnings : AU (Crowley isn't a demon but is super fucking rich), Cam girl, Cam show, drinking, partial nudity

Header by : @sorenmarie87, as always. She's the best and I adore her and her work.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

The internet was filled with so many girls thinking they could get rich quick just by taking off their clothes. Like they were something special, something to behold. But really, they were one in a billion. Forgettable. Nothing different from the next person.

You were one in thousands. Slightly better odds.

Being a BBW, while nothing overly special on it’s own, did do one thing for you. People who ended up in your room knew what they wanted. They wanted a curvaceous goddess in their face. Curves and softness, something you had plenty of. The pool of plus size cam girls was smaller than the pool of everyone else.

Beyond that, you did what people paid you to do. If a guy paid you to fill your room with balloons and pop them one after another by sitting on them, you did it. Rub lotion all over your stomach and then spit on it, sure. Wear clothes that were two sizes too small, why not.

Tonight was kind of like that. Packages from a few regulars had shown up in your PObox, and one of them had contained a bottle of booze. Glencraig, a scotch whiskey you’d never heard of until James showed up in your chat room and paid for a private show where you drank and talked with him for an hour about two months ago. Now you had your own bottle. So you had taken a picture of it sitting between your legs, put it as your profile pic on the site and titled your chat “Me and Craig. Let’s see where this goes.”

Crowley’s bored and frustrated. The office is empty and he’s supposed to be working but he’s pent up. It’s been a long day of morons fucking shit up and he needed a god damn break. Billions of dollars at his disposal and he still couldn’t buy good fucking help to run his business.

He’s scrolling through women, looking for someone to catch his eye and quickly realizing he doesn’t think anyone will. They’re all the same. Once you’ve had one, you’d had them all, and he’s had plenty in his time. Fergus McLeod was no innocent. He was the farthest thing from it.

With a grunt of disapproval, he started looking for something different, hoping for something new. Key words being typed into searches, but nothing catching his eye in half of those either. Not for long, anyways. ‘BBW’ was a keyword he’d hit. Not many girls online, some of them into some niche things that he’d honestly consider, but all their pictures were the same. Every single one.

Except one. It had him leaning closer, trying to read the label. Interested enough in that at least, he hit join. What he found inside made his cock twitch.

A dark leather chair, not too different from one he  sat in himself. Smooth thick thighs he found himself wanting to bite into. And between them? The item that had taken hold of his interest, the reason he’d clicked to join. Glencraig. The bottle was freshly opened from the looks of it, about three fingers missing, so probably only on her second glass at most. He leaned in again, trying to get a closer look at the label. A soft curse fell from his lips when he saw the numbers 1974, and then ‘Aged 34 Years’. His cock twitched again, and he found himself reaching down to grip it through his slacks.

It was a close up of the bottle right now, and he wasn’t complaining. No one complained when she went to refill her glass, either. A whiskey glass was brought down to her thigh, then the bottle was brought out of where it was nestled, and a bare pussy was exposed. Chimes rang through his office, followed by a soft giggle as she poured, and then the bottle was placed back down, her pussy hidden once more behind the amber liquid and the black label. Then the camera moved.

It was tilted up more, following the glass as it was brought up to her lips and she took another sip. A shiver ran down her spine as it burned, and Crowley found himself smiling along with her. He heard another chime, then her laugh again. The tip amounted to about 75$, give or take.

“James, don’t be absurd, you already paid for the bottle.” She spoke as she pushed the camera back, giving a full view. Bottle between her legs and that seductive smile on her lips.

A message came up in the chat that read ‘Maybe I want you to be able to get yourself another. Hey guys! Let’s get her enough to order another bottle so we can have another night like this!’

The chat sped up, messages agreeing with the sentiment, and more chimes of tips being given for the cause. Another giggle came from her lips as she brought the glass back up to her mouth.

Not to be out done, Crowley made a donation of his own.

You were smiling, giggling, happy that everyone seemed to enjoy the theme of the room tonight. Glad that James approved of how you used his gift. You tilted the glass back just as a few chimes went off signaling more donations, and one of them made you choke on the scotch and spit it out. You stared at the screen, stunned as the liquid ran down off your chin.

Who the fuck was TheKing, and why did he just drop what had to be about 2 grand on you?

A new alert sounded, and you noticed you had a DM. Speak of the devil.

>> TheKing : From one Glencraig lover to another. I hope you enjoy it, love.

You stared at it, still in shock. In all your time as a cam girl, on here, on BBW specific sites, nothing like this had ever happened before. People bought gifts, sure, but this?

>> TheKing : Breathe, darling. >> TheKing : Don’t forget to breathe.

Realizing you had just been sitting there staring at the screen, you wiped your chin off and licked your lips, trying to collect yourself. The main chat was blowing up, you weren’t the only one dealing with shock and awe with what just happened.

“Uhm.” you breathed out awkwardly, not sure what to say, how to react. Was this real? “All hail The King?” an awkward chuckle followed the words, but the chat room was filled with messages of ‘all hail TheKing!’  “Should I bow.. or..” you joked, with a shy smile.

>> TheKing : No need to bow, love. >> TheKing : Though I wouldn’t say no to a conversation.

A soft smile graced your lips before you typed out your answer.

<< Saltine : We’re having a conversation. >> TheKing : I was thinking something a little more face to face. >> TheKing : I hear your voice, you hear mine.

You licked your lips, the general chat room forgotten for the moment. With money he dropped on you, your undivided attention for a moment was the least you could do.

<< Saltine : I don’t meet people from the site in person. It’s a safety issue, I’m sure you understand.

Three little dots in the corner let you know he was typing almost immediately.

>> TheKing : I wouldn’t expect you to, love. I meant more of a chat where I have my camera on too. Make it a little more intimate. I don’t mind paying for a private show where you don’t need to show anything. I would just like a drink with you.

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, considering the offer. Private shows didn’t really happen a whole lot, but when they did, it was charged by the minute so it was worth the time. You found yourself using your thumb to crack the knuckle of your index finger, and then your middle one before you nodded. “Yeah, we can do a private chat.” you spoke, letting the chatroom know your cam would be shutting off in there in a minute.

>> TheKing : You just made me a very happy man, darling. Whenever you’re ready, you let me know.

You were chewing on your lip as you waited for his cam to kick in. It was a moment of black before a bright light seemed to come on, and quickly it shifted. There was black in the middle of brightness, and then slowly the light seemed to adjust. It was a window. A massive window. As the lighting adjusted, you found yourself looking at a man in a suit and behind him, a city skyscape all laid out for him.  Glancing at the time, you wondered where in the world he was. Was it evening like where you were, the sun still holding on and not yet ready to set, or was that a morning glow behind him. Either way, it looked beautiful.

The man himself was something to behold. Not stunningly beautiful, not young and fit like some of the guys who popped up on camera for you, but captivating. He seemed to demand attention, radiating power. He was someone. A few very short hairs touched his forehead, he had a short beard as well, one you had the urge to run your fingertips over. Dark piercing eyes that you felt burning into you as one side of his mouth turned up into a smirk at your reaction of seeing him.

“H-hi.” you stuttered, then curse yourself for it.

His smile only widened. He brought a glass up, and that’s when you noticed the bottle on his desk. The same as the bottle still sitting between your thighs. He took a sip, then placed the glass down on the dark wood. “Why Saltine?” he asked, and you felt your stomach flutter at the accent.

“Because I’m so fucking salty all the time?” You gave him a shy smile. “Why TheKing? What are you the king of?”

“Your dreams.” He answered without hesitation and a fuck ton of confidence. He was cocky, he knew the effect he had on people and how to use it. “If you wish it.”

“Tempting.” you try to tease, lifting your own glass to your lips. “Why me?” you ask before sipping.

“Glencraig. Aged 30 years or more, there is no finer drink, love. It’s rare to find a woman with such tastes.”

“It was bought for me.”

“But you enjoy it, yes?” You gave him a nod. You had to admit, it wasn’t bad. “A woman of taste.” he smiled again. “What other things do you enjoy, Saltine? Money? Things? Travel?”

“Are you offering?” he intrigued you. He really did. Something about him made you want more and you didn’t even know him. “I could use a vacation.”

“Anywhere you want, darling. Where would you like to go?”

“Paris.” You answered quickly, and it didn’t seem to faze him at all. “Scotland.” you added. “England. Ireland. India. Japan. I want to see it all.”

His smile widened again. “Scotland, eh? It has been a while since I’ve been home.”

“I was joking.” you chuckled.

“I wasn’t. In another life, I could’ve given you everything you wanted and more with just a snap of my fingers.” You sat there, stunned again. “Choose a place and I’ll send you there. If you want, I’ll take the time and meet you there. The choice is yours, darling. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this interested in anything.”

“All because of a bottle of Craig?” you asked.

“Everything good in life starts with a quality scots. Be it a whiskey, or a scotsman.” he winked. “So where first?”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn    @fandom-princess-forevermore     @kalesrebellion   @deanwanddamons   @thoughts-and-funnies  @lyarr24  @dreaming-about-fanfictions​

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted  @kazkingdom   @babypink224221  @emoryhemsworth    @ilovefanfic86​  @pie-with-hunters​   @anaelsbrunette​   @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​ @xostephanie​ @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[writers-block-is-now-a-person]

Within The Willows

Chapter 2:

Time seemed to slow, everything became too bright and too dull to Rosaria. Her mind was racing, the plan she concocted in her mind was torn apart and she was struggling to think of something new. She was sweating in the cool breeze, focusing hard on not lashing out at Prince Fredrick. Everything he did seemed like a reason to give him a good knock across the jaw. King Charles of Irela was with them as well, sitting across from his son. King Alrond sat at the head, on a carved oak chair, amplifying his status. 

The king and prince of Irela were almost identical. Untameable blond hair that curled around their golden crowns, bright green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, creating pools of melted mint. They both had identical bright smiles, but Rosaria noticed the crookedness of Fredricks nose, she enjoyed the thought of him being punched in the face. 

Rosaria picked at the fruit and pastries in front of her, forcing something down her throat made it harder to speak snide remarks at Prince Fredricks flirts. He kept a hand under the table, softly resting it on her knee. If he moved it higher he would certainly feel the blade strapped to her thigh. Only then things could get interesting, but Rosaria wasn’t going to let his hand slide up any further. 

She moved her knee across her other leg as she drank tea from a cup decorated with wild flowers and butterflies, attempting to look interested in the conversation. Fredrick’s hand hovered next to her skirt for a moment, debating on what to do next. Rosaria felt his finger tips glide along her silk skirt up her thigh. He paused, frozen. Rosaria knew he could feel the dagger, her heart was thundering with fear and adrenaline. Fredrick traced the size of the blade slowly, his hand was shaking slightly.

He pulled away, reaching for his water glass on the table instead. Rosaria breathed out slowly. He knows, she thought, now what will he do?

“Now, Princess Rosaria, I’ve been told you were quite the fighter in your youth. I find myself wanting to ask a question, do you still keep that fighting spirit?” King Charles scanned Rosaria’s face.

Fredrick stiffened next to her, eyes darting down to his plate. Rosaria inhaled to speak, the Queen jutted in before she could get the words out.

“No need to worry about that King Charles, Rosaria knows to control her temper and has grown into the finery of royalty needs.” It was warning if Rosaria knew one, one toe out of line and she would be left to rot. The Queens deep blue eyes held Rosaria’s cold stare.

King Charles glanced over at his son, “Perfect, it’s reassuring to know that Rosaria will fit into the Courts needs in times of need such as this one.”

Another cold stab to the heart, the reason behind this marriage. To stop a bloodthirsty war that started decades ago. The conversation carried on lightly, bringing up dull topics. Rosaria chimed in when needed, but stayed quiet. Fredrick’s bubbly personality seemed to have evaporated. 

The sun rose higher in the sky and the garden buzzed with bees and butterflies enjoying the pollen. The cool breeze rustled the bushes and trees in the garden. The table was cleared and glasses were refilled as the conversation drawled on. 

King Alrond rose and gestured to the castle and grounds, “While my daughter and wife have matters to attend to, shall I give you and your son a tour of the grounds?” He helped Queen Rika out of her chair and held a hand out to King Charles. 

King Charles nodded, “Seeing your grounds from inside the walls will certainly be a sight, but shouldn’t my son attend Princess Rosaria’s lesson on our culture?”

Rosaria froze, having Fredrick close would make it easier to make sure he didn’t spill about the dagger, but being forced to spend more time with him seemed like torture.

“As much joy it would bring me teaching my darling Rosaria the culture of our future kingdom, I would love to know as much about hers, Your Highness,” every word Fredrick said made Rosaria want to lunge at his throat with her dagger.

The Queen beamed, rubbing her belly softly, “Such consideration, of course you may Fredrick.”

Rosaria swallowed her relief as she rose from her chair, she had to refrain from flinching when Fredrick held her arm and pushed out her seat. He held her as if she was poison in a glass bottle. Rosaria noted the clench in his jaw and realised he was afraid of her. He might’ve been afraid, but he was still being a gentleman to her. Her stomach swirled with various emotions.

The kings and queen chatted quietly about the future royal that will be in the Sawven line. Rosaria straighten her back and turned to leave, Fredrick caught her hand and made a show of sweeping her blood red hair over her shoulder. He leaned in close to the skin at her neck.

“I don’t know why you have a dagger hidden beneath those skirts, but if you plan on hurting my kingdom I will make sure you never see the sun again,” he breathed against her ear. He then threw his head back with a laugh and smiled, “Don’t fret my darling, I will join you shortly, let me enjoy your extravagant home first.”

Rosaria was aware of his hand on the small of her back, she was also aware of his grip on her wrist. She only just realised she was about to strike him in the torso with her jewelled hand. 

She returned his dazzling smile, her teeth bared, “I hope you find the castle exhilarating, my prince.” Her pointed words were sharper than the dagger at her thigh.

He held her stare as he walked back towards the kings. When he turned he relaxed his shoulders and smiled brightly to King Alrond.  

~*~

Rosaria tried to concentrate on the information that was being laid out in front of her, but her mind was racing. Filled with all of the memories of this kingdom she was being forced out. The betrayal of her parents she thought would protect her. Sick with the naivety in believing she would rule Sawven and not be carted off into a marriage. She was thankful she didn’t have her mother sitting in, having her dark ocean eyes would infuriate Rosaria more.

She followed the lines of the many rivers in the Irelan Province. Irela had thin rivers winding through their land, they were very rich in agriculture and fresh produce. Although, with the current situation, majority of their land was destroyed with the battlefield of war and the rivers flooded with blood. The peaceful towns were razed off the map, forcing villagers to flee to the kingdom in hopes of safety.

With Irela being locked between Monsficer, wide open grass plains pocketed with thick swamps, and Hikrea, treacherous mountain ranges and caverns, they were reliant on the agriculture success on the villages. They suffered greatly with having most of the battle ground on their borders. Monsficer and Hikrea are the most powerful and unpredictable of the five provinces. 

Hikrea’s kingdom is impenetrable, embedded in the rocks of their mountains. Their army wipes out town after town, an unstoppable force of metal and leather. The mining into the mountains make them rich with jewels as well as fresh with iron and steel for weaponry. Hikrea’s ruler is the most fiercest fighter, only the strongest can rule, which makes them the most violent royal families.

Monsficer’s lands are exposed to the elements of the sky, making the grass plains inhabitable. The grasses are pocketed with thick swamps, only people who are raised there know their way. There is only one road into the kingdom, it takes weeks to travel. There are few towns scattered across the plains, they are very small and barely surviving. The castle is built like a maze, with small passages and secret entrances. Very little is known about Monsficer.

The fifth province, Portema, a booming kingdom with access to the ocean. Their countless ports make their trading pallet exotic and new. With bountiful wealth always comes hardship, the scandals amongst the royal family are common. It was Portema that started the war, for what reason, it was lost to the wind, like a ship in a stormy sea.

Rosaria continued to list the pros and cons of each province, their battle strategy and colours, remembering the days when she would listen in on the war room generals. She was unprepared for the loud shout her teacher gave to get her attention.

“Princess Rosaria! Are you listening?” The old lady scowled, “Going off into faerieland is the worst trait a queen could have.”

Lady Oltic was stern and stubborn, she would have been hung for the way she treated Rosaria but her cunning mind and quick wit keeps her in the castle. Her husband is the Royal Astronomer, a right hand and favourite of King Alrond’s court. He has given the king advice for decades, and saved the royal line in times of distress by using his knowledge of the stars. Every time Lord Oltic turns his eyes to Rosaria her skin crawls, his ancient gaze makes her sick.

“I said, are you listening, Princess?” Lady Oltic leaned in.

Rosaria straightened and cleared her throat, “Simply going over the Irelan Court, Lady Oltic.”

Lady Oltic’s eyebrow arched on her wrinkled face, she sighed, “Rosaria, this treaty means no more war. You must take this seriously, one foul up and we are thrown back into war. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the lie tasted sour on her tongue.

Lady Oltic wasn’t convinced, “Recite King Charles Irelan Court and their importance to the king.”

Rosaria sighed and prepared to speak, “The Irelan Court consists of the King, the prince, two generals, four lords and the Royal Physician. The two generals are in charge of the cavalry and the knights of Irela. While one overseas the army the other is the leader of the royal guard and protection of the king. The Royal Physician is there to oversea that the civilians have access to health and medicine and is there to update them on any plague outbreaks. The four lords are the representatives of the four major towns in the Irelan Province. They bring information to King regarding trade, agriculture produce and any problems that the King needs to be aware of. The prince is there to understand the way the kingdom is run, to understand what his kingdom needs and how to dress situations.”

Lady Oltic snorted, “You may be a quick learner, but you are forgetting vital information.”

Rosaria titled her head, searching for a trick in the old crones face.

“One outstanding rule in the Irelan Court is that the Queen takes no part it in, she has no say in the King’s decision making and must entertain the idea that she is only there to produce heirs. She must stay inside the castle and is only allowed out during festivals. If she leaves the castle, she must have her head covered. A woman is seen as fragile in Irela, their use is to produce children and support their husband,” Lady Oltic studied the shock that bloomed on Rosaria’s face. 

Rosaria could hear the thrum of her pulse, anger and despair thrashed around inside her. Her breakfast threatened to make an appearance on the oak table. She finally understood why Prince Fredrick was so touchy, why King Charles seemed to over look Queen Rika. To them, she was inferior, and that knowledge filled her with fury.

Rosaria pushed back her chair and clenched her fists. She refused to marry a man that will not see her as his equal. She prepared herself to argue when the heavy doors to the library opened, revealing a very anxious knight.

“Princess Rosaria, Queen Rika has demanded you meet her in the Old Worship Chamber. Immediately,” he stuttered out the last words and seemed transfixed with the wooden floor.

Rosaria nodded slowly to Lady Oltic, “I wish you well in your studies and life at Sawven, may we meet again someday Lady Oltic.”

The knight jumped out of the doorway for Rosaria to pass and fumbled while closing the door. She pondered his reasons to be anxious, none seemed to some to mind. He didn’t escort her to the Old Worship Chambers, so she went at her own pace.

She gazed out the windows, committing the view to memory. The red and white roses created patterns on the grounds. She spotted her father with the Irelan Royals. King Alronds red and white attire stood out against the green and gold embroidery of the Irelan garments. She understood why her dress was green and gold, why there were emeralds at her neck and gold on her fingers. To look like she was already the Irelan Queen.

As she drew closer to the Old Worship Chambers, she noticed that there were no guards at their stations. The room might have been abandoned but it was disrespectful to leave a place of worship unguarded. She slowed, her hand naturally strayed to her thigh.

Rosaria gripped the cold handle, iron twisted to form vines, the door was inlaid with carvings of forest. She pushed one the door to find her mother standing in the centre of the room, a black leather bag lay at her feet.

Queen Rika was livid.

Rosaria recognised the bag, her heart dropped.

“You awful, rotten, deceiving and disgraceful child,” Queen Rika eyes were darker than the roughest seas.

Rosaria knew she was close to drowning in her mothers fury. She swallowed, closed the door and steeled herself for the onslaught of her mothers storm.

~*~*~*~*~

Hey! I updated at a reasonable time! this is the second chapter and I hope you are enjoying the story so far! I have so much more to add. Feedback is appreciated!

[wdproject]

Week 1 - Getting Started

Upon reviewing Datasets I have chosen the “Outlook On Life” dataset. And after reviewing the Codebook for “Outlook On Life” I found that I am interested in researching if political affiliation is related to a positive Outlook On Life.

For my Secondary Question I would like to take a look if Economic status affects positive outlook on Life.

If a particular political group generally has a more positive outlook on life does that mean that they are economically in a better position?

While determining the level of optimism is a start, I will need to determine if political affiliation and economic status play a role in Positive Outlook On Life. Initial research appears to support my hypothesis that there is a correlation between POOL and Political Affiliation, at least in younger age groups.

My hypothesis is that Positive Outlook On Life (POOL) correlates with political affiliation, and that economic status plays a significant role in POOL. 

Data Sets:

PPETHM: Race / Ethnicity

PPINCIMP: Household Income

W1_C1: Generally speaking, do you usually think of yourself as a Democrat, a Republican, an Independent, or something else?

W1_P2: People talk about social classes such as the poor, the working class, the middle class, the upper-middle class, and the upper class. Which of these classes would you say you belong to?

W1_P3: Which of these classes would you say most memebers of your family belong to?

W2_QE1: When you think about your future, are you generally optimistic, pessimistic, or neither optimistic nor pessimistic?

W2_QE2: And when you think about the future of the United States as a whole, are you generally optimistic, pessimistic, or neither optimistic nor pessimistic?

W2_QE2A: Are you extremely [optimistic/pessimistic], moderately [optimistic/pessimistic], or slightly [optimistic/pessimistic]?

Bibliography:

Krawatzek, Félix. "Youth in Poland: Outlook on Life and Political Attitudes." (2019).

Schlenker, Barry R., John R. Chambers, and Bonnie M. Le. "Conservatives are happier than liberals, but why? Political ideology, personality, and life satisfaction." Journal of Research in Personality 46.2 (2012): 127-146.

Moran, Ian. "Punk: The do-it-yourself subculture." (2021).

Secondary question:

Irelan, Lola M., and Arthur Besner. "Low-income outlook on life." Welfare Rev. 3 (1965): 13.

https://www.pewresearch.org/global/2021/11/18/what-makes-life-meaningful-views-from-17-advanced-economies/

[plotbunnyshipper]

Fundamental Cracks - Chapter 32

Fundamental Cracks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564

(Not sure why the word Chapter managed to make it’s way into my link - that’s the only change to this post since last night) Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564/chapters/32569071

If you read the partial draft I posted this has that, plus more...total of just over 12k words because I was trying to cram too much in a chapter and even then ended up splitting it in two. So, this one is still in the past, skipping around right up to Ivy Town which will be the next chapter, then I’m back to storyline ‘present.’

Because it’s so long I’m not posting all of it on here - it’s on Ao3, link is above.

Thank you wonderful people who keep reading, it’s very appreciated.

A sudden wrenching movement tears me from sleep into the dark grogginess of way too early to be awake. “Wh-? What? What’s wrong..happ’nin’..Up, I’m up!”

There is more noise from the person and the bed as the jerky motion stills. A hard breath is followed by a rough, uncertain, “F-Felicity?”

Right. Oliver, not ‘the person.’ “Yeah.” I try blinking but it is still too dark to see where he went. Last night starts flickering into thought and I shake my head to try clearing the remaining fog from my mind. “What’s wrong?”

“I…Nothing, I just didn’t remember…”

Searching my hand over the sheet, even as I stretch I can’t feel him. Did he literally jump out of bed? “’S fine…” I rub my face into the pillow with a yawn, “It’s the first time we’ve slept together, you can freak out a little.”

His voice is immediate, defensive, and the bed shifts as he sits back down. “We’ve slept together and slept together before, it isn’t a first.”

Another large yawn steals my voice when I start to try and argue that last part. Oliver’s fingers lace with mine and I tug him back towards the center of the bed. “We’ve been asleep together when I sleep and you succumb to exhaustion, the closest we got was huddled up in the van or around the table. And after we slept together I dosed you wi-,“ Catching myself both in the fact that I’m still not exactly sure what I put in the wine that night, and the fact that if he’s startled by someone asleep with him in bed that maybe he woke unpleasantly like that a few times during his stretch with the League. That first time together for us was a serious, desperate last chance at a memory before what could have been the loss of each other, forever. Oliver is still learning how to let his guard back down, to relax and be happy, that place is a train of thought I don’t want to remind him of. “You were under the influence of…uh…something, and I was wide awake. So this definitely is another in our soon to be long list of firsts.”

Arms wrap around me, pulling me to rest on him, and I hear his heartbeat under my ear.

What I mean to say is something like, “We’re safe, you can relax…in a week it’ll feel weird to sleep alone.” What I actually say is muffled by his chest and yawns, but Oliver must get the gist, because I feel his breathing slowing to pace mine.

The next time I wake it is to the slow exploration of caressing hands. Oliver Queen, as it turns out, is quite the cuddler.

…

As we drink bitter coffee from the small machine on the bathroom counter, he asks, “You want to do anything today?”

“You,” I say with a terribly exaggerated wink.

He gives a startled laugh at my bluntness. “I think that can be easily arranged, but is there anything other than that?”

“Hmm…Take a bunch of naps unlike any weekday I remember. Let’s relax. Maybe play spin the bottle…box.” I point at the empty wine container.

“With just the two of us?”

“Guarantees I get to kiss the person I want to. Want to give it a whirl? We can order delivery for breakfast later.”

He does.

…

Between lazy touches, showers, and more amorous activities, we don’t get around to eating food until after noon when rumbling tummies demand use of those takeout menus, and the room phone…because I can go a damn week…another six days….five days ten hours without my phone.

…

It takes two full days into the trip, or more accurately two full days and one more blissful night after checking in, to finally decide to leave the room.

Glorious hours of exploring, learning, each other’s bodies, of making vague wish lists of plans that kept getting interrupted by smiles that in turn lead to lengthy, handsy, make-out sessions, which of course leads to taking turns seeing who can make the other forget what we were talking about.

Now, as I lay here I can honestly say that this is the most carefree I can remember being. “The black, green, and red sand beaches…and the lava at that volcano park…maybe splurge on a coffee farm tour…” Talking to myself to help remember, I nudge the wide sleeve of the robe out of the way and scribble down a couple more options for when we leave on the red-eye to Hawaii at the end of the week. Or is it still a red eye when you’re leaving at two in the morning? Those tickets were too awesome a price not to snag before leaving Starling. Either way we still have to get up to Seattle by Wednesday.

I scissor my calves back and forth, pumping them together once more before stretching my toes into the rumpled pile of blankets at the end of the bed. It’s only as his hands slide along my ribs, pushing the robe high to place a kiss over the center of my spine that I realize the shower is no longer going.

He’s trying to get another point in the tally of lost focus, but I’m still ahead by two…must hold my lead.

Trying to focus on a mental globe, avoiding teeny tiny islands, and mountains, and the entirety of China…and Russia, I keep thinking West. “After Hawaii, where do you want to go? Japan, Thailand…?” With loving caresses my hips are lifted and tugged back, inching my upper body along the bed until I’m in a kneeling bow instead of lazily sprawled on my belly. My face heats as a very intimate breath is huffed against my skin.

Focus! My voice hitchs but I press on, quickly writing in precise letters, ”Spain? France? Irelan-nnh!” The pen gouges the small notepad, “Oliver! That’s cheating!”

There is a throaty noise, like a hidden laugh before he shifts to lightly nip the back of my thigh, “Says the gorgeous distraction stretched across the bed.”

“I was trying to write a list of the places we both wanted to visit…there’s also plenty of cool stuff to see here in the States.”

“C’mere.” The pen and paper fall away as he lifts me, then rolls us so that I straddle him, leaving his hands spread across my hips and thighs. “Mmm, I think this is quickly becoming my favorite view of you.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I retort, grinning with a lean forward to brush our lips together, “but you need to focus if we’re going to make plans.”

“Let’s be spontaneous, pick and go on the same day when we’re ready to leave. This is about you and me, wherever we go that’s the only thing that matters.”

“Having the time for a plan and not forming one? Who are you and what have you done with my…” Oh. What do I call him? Boyfriend? That doesn’t sound quite right. Partner? Not right either. “-my Oliver?” It’s a lame finish, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

“New start. Just us, nothing we need to do except make that flight, nowhere we need to be, though I will say I’m hoping you won’t decide to wander away for a few more minutes.”

I sway my hips in a relaxed motion, it has an immediate effect. A few more minutes of wriggling and kisses until I can reach between us, shift and settle myself down oh-so-slowly as his hips push up into me. Both our breaths catch, Oliver stares like he’s memorizing every slowly scanned inch from my face down to where we’re joined. “Yeah,” it’s soft, and full of emotion, “definitely top of the list.”

His hand slides down, thumb making small circles in ways we’ve spent this stay perfecting, and it is so perfect that it makes me gasp, “Fuck!”

Oliver’s voice is teasing, “I am…unless you want me to stop.”

I laugh, “You just try to stop, I’ll…” the words morph into a gasped moan as he flexes particular muscle sets underneath me with a rather delightful result.

There are a few things that I’ve learned Oliver Queen loves in the hours that we’ve secluded ourselves in this quaint little room. One – he doesn’t mind eating takeout for every meal. Two – I knew the man was always up for a challenge, but the lengths he’ll go to excel rather than just succeed, that was a very pleasant education. And three – the he has a weakness for the sounds of sex. All the other senses involved work their magic, but when he closes his eyes and just loses himself in the actions…if I can work things so the bed squeaks a little louder, focus hard on verbalizing actual words rather than just sounds as I praise and beg and play, unless of course my mouth is occupied with other things…Oh how it works on him. One time, only one time so far, as I held his head in place so I could pant and moan directly into his ear what every thrust and motion he made felt like, goading and begging him on, drawing his attention to the wet rhythm of our bodies joining as it filled the room, being what should have been embarrassingly vocal as he managed to get me off just barely before he lost that carefully held control – I made this beautiful, amazingly strong man come so hard he blacked out for a few seconds. It. Was. Awesome!

There is deep heat to his voice, “You’ll what?”

With his hand playing like that as he helps me ride him I can’t keep focus on my train of thought, “What?”

His thumb moves only in the pauses between his words, “I just try to stop and you’ll…”

“I’ll tackle you and…and…God! Don’t stop or I’ll be very upset with you!”

Whatever he imagines my being very upset with him will or will not entail works, because he doesn’t stop, and keeps not stopping until we’re both exhausted again.

}]}———}>

No plans were made, and we drove until ending up in some small, touristy Pacific Northwestern fishing town, just in time for some seasonal festival, or celebration, or something. Oliver’s right, the only important thing is it’s us. Again we pick a place to stay at random, some motel that’s just a fifteen minute walk from what passes for downtown. The man at the desk recommended a local restaurant, and even was so kind as to make a reservation for us while we checked in.

…

I am quite sure we have thoroughly broken in the room. However if Oliver doesn't finish his shower we're going to miss our reservation and not make it out of here before the rest of the tourists flood the main stretch. As 'It's not authentic but these are some awesome  dumplings' as the delivery food was, we both need something a lot less fried and salty after five straight meals of the takeout that quickly arrived at our door. Besides my sensitive parts are getting a bit tender from this amount of action, no matter how wonderful, so a couple hours break is absolutely necessary.

“Hurry up!” I call towards the bathroom, “We’re going to be late!”

My dress is flirty, not that he doesn't seem to appreciate everything I have and haven't worn since we made the decision to go. But as I’m pulling clothes out for him that compliment the hints of lace peeking out near my knees, and fishing for a pair of socks at the bottom of the luggage, a familiar color flashes in the shuffle. What the...? 

I’m still standing there when he emerges, towel wrapped around his waist. Smile dropping to a look of confusion at my expression, “What’s wrong?”

I lift a fistful of dark fabric. “Are you planning on needing this for something?”

His words fumble, and his eyes dart down at the offending object then back up. “I- That- It’s a great jacket.”

“You already brought three jackets for any weather – hoodie, rain, and cold, why did you bring this one? Is Kevlar in your itinerary of escape?” The reinforced chest and back of this old prototype that was not flexible enough for easily using his arrows with is heavy enough to make my arm ache at this angle. Letting it drop to the floor with a faint thud I just give him a pointed stare.

His hands keep moving, rubbing nervously at his jaw, the back of his neck, the closely cropped hair that is still dark with water. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t notice packing it.”

“Is that your thing?” I ask point blank, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my belly.

He blinks, eyes meeting mine, confusion clear, “My thing?”

A step away from the dark pile and my arms wrapping around myself provides no comfort. “The danger, the life and death, do you have to have the adrenaline rush to be truly satisfied?”

“Felicity, I packed it by mistake.” He takes slow steps forward, like I'm dangerous. I'm not dangerous, I'm worried, and the distraction of just a towel blocking him from being nude is not scattering those thoughts as it would have even a day ago, not over something like this.

“That’s not a ‘No,’ Oliver. Is it your addiction, a not-so-secret kink?”

His arms wrap loosely around me, following as I try to turn my head away, “My ‘addiction,' my 'kink,’“ his forehead nudges mine, “is sharing time and experiences with the woman I love.” Eyes stare into mine as his lips hover, just shy of kissing me. “Promise…Pinkie promise.”

I can't help but give a concerned laugh at that, pecking at his lips before pushing him away with a pointed look at the clothes. “A real sicko at heart.”

It takes him mere seconds to pull on each piece, “How about we grab dinner, since you’re worried about that too, then discuss this?”

A glance at the clock that says we have ten minutes to make the long walk, “I’m not going to drop it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

We arrive ten minutes late, and I’m a bit breathless from jogging close-ish to his slowed pace on the well worn path in these sandals, but they held the table even with the line out the door because the motel owner is a friend of the owner.

…

I present a reasonable case, a set of logical points. The jacket is one not so baby-step back into that. The same thing that left so many marks on the skin I had myself all over for the past few days.

Only distracted by the thoughts of that skin on skin for a moment, Oliver counters with it being an accident; it’s obviously one of the older prototypes, it must have been nestled into a different jacket or sweater.

Accident. Coincidence. Part of the perfection of our escape from reality cracks, splinters off. I don’t know if I can believe him on this.

He must someone see that in my face, he apologizes, and apologizes again. Our fingers lace together. “I promise you, I have no plans to take up my old job in a new location. If you want me to throw it away I’ll trash it as soon as we get back to the room.”

I sigh, “That jacket is the most expensive one you own now.” All the ways this could play out try to make a traffic jam in my brain, “Don’t trash it, that’s just wasteful. But promise me you won’t go searching for Kevlar situations to put yourself in.”

“I promise.” He raises my hand and kisses my knuckles, “Cross my heart.”

A small tug and I pull it out of his grip, dragging it over his shirt, making a wide X over that spot before letting my palm rest. His heartbeat’s soft rhythm feels right. “Keep that promise. I love that heart.”

Our drinks arrive before Oliver can say anything, but he nods as I retreat back to my side of the table. We lightly toast on it. The wine is good, the food, in its low oil, low salt, and bright flavors is better.

…

“Mmm.” My tongue darts out to catch the crumbs that broke apart on my lips. It is only then that I notice Oliver’s intense stare. Following up with my fingers to make sure I didn't miss any since my napkin disappeared, I see him lick his lips at the motion eyes never leaving my mouth. "Oliver...?"

"Mmmhmm?" He blinks, and reflexively takes a large swallow of wine.

“We have made up for lost time and more since we left, you can’t still be that distracted by the newness. If anything you should be dehydrated.” It’s only been a couple hours, even for the honeymoon style start of dating, skipping most of the awkward getting-to-know-you’s, this is a lot of sex. And for me to think it’s a lot of sex, it takes a LOT of sex.

“Felicity, I finally get a chance to show you how much I love you, all of you. My brain hasn’t quite got the memo that it’s not going to disappear in a blink like when we tried dating last time.”

His words send warm tingles through my blood.  Running my fingertip along the rim of my empty water and then half full wine glass, I bite on my lip to dim my smile just a bit, "How about we just finish the wine, skip dessert, and take a walk?"

"A walk?"

Mirroring a stare at his lips, reaching across the table to lace my fingers with his, I nod.

"Let me pay and we can just take the bottle with us." He glances around for the waiter, reaching for his wallet.

Since they still have to print out the bill, instead my hand tips the rest of the wine into our glasses, taking them both back to full. I take the time to savor mine, then a few sips of his, giving extra attention to any traces on my lips, trying to give just a little payback for the many those times he did all that shirtless training. When the total finally arrives Oliver barely glances at it while watching me steal another taste from his glass. Grabbing a few bills before shoving his wallet back in his pocket he covers our meal plus a tip.

It was an unexpected surprise that he mentioned during our drive, extra money for the trip, cash from his account tied the sale of a few of his remaining shares of Queen Consolidated to Ray in his takeover.

The wineglass is gently pried from my hands and raised to his lips. Draining, too controlled to be gulping but at the same speed, his drink down as he stands. Our hands join, within a few steps he’s gently pulling me along. We weave through dark buildings, laughing, making playful little comments. Oliver spins around when I can’t keep up through a tight alleyway, crushing his lips to mine desperately, grabbing my hips and hoisting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Rubbing myself against him like an animal in heat gives me a deliciously buffered friction, I lean in for another kiss at the same time he does and our noses bump hard enough to have me drawing back with a near yelp.

“You ok?” A hand immediately caresses the side of my face.

Rubbing my cheek into that touch, nipping at the thumb that grazes the corner of my lips I give a small nod. “Just startled me more than anything. You?” The look he gives me is full of sarcasm and incredulity that he’d notice something so small as a bumped nose. The buzz is making a wonderful looseness to my muscles. “Fine, macho man, why don't you kiss it and make it better?”

He gives the ghost of a low laugh, rocking himself against me, “I’d rather kiss something else to make you feel better.”

Oh...well..."That sounds delightful."

His hips move and he groans, “It's gonna be a long walk back to the hotel.”

I mock whisper, “Who said anything about the hotel?” I may not be an exhibitionist but there’s plenty of hidden places that I remember from our dash here, and it’s only gotten darker since then. “It’s just us out here, everyone else is waiting for the fireworks to start. I’m not doing anything exposed, but if you find us a bit of privacy…”

We twist through another couple alleys, then end up in an expanse of coastline. We have to slow when I yank on his arm to catch myself from another rock my toes trip over. Oliver’s arm moves under my shoulders and he lifts so it feels like I’m floating. Just another reminder of how strong he is. It earns him another emphatic kiss. When my lips leave his, he opens his eyes, sweeping them over the stretch around us as the first of the night’s fireworks sizzles up and bursts a rainbow of burning chemicals into the sky. “That gazebo over there… looks like there’s sunken seating. Nobody is around, no one will see a thing?”

Looking at the option one minute away instead of at least half an hour from us with the darkness, and stumbling, and touches…probably even longer, another check for anyone else comes up empty and I nod.

He takes the lead, stepping down and helping keep me steady as I follow. Another set of fireworks illuminates the simple seating, a concrete circle with a fire pit in the center, but it’s private and right here, which makes it better than the distant bed. I stay standing, since it leaves me at the perfect height. Oliver drags his hands up my thighs, my fingers over his to guide him to my hips. His thumbs loop in the fabric, slowly inching down my panties as he settles to kneel.

The discarded barrier gets shoved into my purse and I plant my feet in a comfortable stance. Oliver stares up at me, eyes not leaving mine as I hitch my dress up to my hips. His head dips. “I used to fantasize about doing this, tasting you, and now that I’ve had you…those fantasies didn’t come anywhere close to how good reality is.” He kisses the inside of my leg, then the other. “I can’t remember how long it’s been since reality was so much better than a dream.”

My core clenches at the words and the breeze that tickles my exposed skin. "Well you'll almost never find me turning that down...,” I let the smile sound in my voice, “for future reference and everything."

"Good to know," is breathed against my skin, and without another word he leans forward, watching me watch him. A slow, firm, lick parts me open. Shoulders push my legs wider, he goes for another long lick, without breaking eye contact. It lets me see his pupils blow wide, hiding the bright blue with darkness. The hot lingering kiss over my clit that follows makes me gasp.

Finally he looks away, down, stares intensely enough at those intimate parts of me that I flush, and start trying to squirm my legs closed. Oliver doesn't let me, diving into his oral exploration without further hesitation. I cry out a moan, dragging my fingertips against his scalp.

He rumbles a noise of approval, the actual words lost against my flesh. I give half formed requests – “Over...Right th-there!”

He is good, really really good, as proven over the past few days, but not a mind reader. So it is an even better experience for all involved if I continue help teaching him what I like best, knowing he'll reciprocate the knowledge share. Just like we agreed. My mouth waters at the thought of our positions reversed, him standing above me, biting his lip with a moan, hips twitching in an effort not to move, gripping my hair as I...

He calls me out on my distraction, “Come back here.” The fantasy breaks apart as his head dips and he pulls my leg so it is over his shoulder and my weight sinks forward against his face. I only keep from falling by that gorgeous face and my other shaky leg. He doesn't falter, tongue plunging in that tiny bit further as he nuzzles his nose against the most sensitive part of me. He is not quiet and takes my guidance without hesitation, leaving me wanton in my tremulous ride of his face.

Staring straight into the sky, fireworks paint the night with the same intensity as the jolts of pleasure Oliver is coaxing from my body. I'm on the cusp of bliss when loud barking invades our privacy. Instinct has me straightening, shoving his head away as he makes a startled sound. The front of my dress is down before I can even figure out where the noise is coming from.

There is a whine of disappointment from him that goes silent as I hiss, “Someone’s walking their dog nearby!” Oliver’s fingers slide from my knee up near the bare skin his mouth was just buried against as he looks around. I can see the shine of me spread across his face and swipe it away with my palm.

With regret visible he grabs that hand, voice suggestive, “We could wait until they move on?”

“No.” The sounds of people talking and more excited dog noises are getting closer and a large set of fireworks burst, brightening the sky and the no longer secluded seating.

He kisses the center of my palm, licking where his lips part, murmuring, “You were close, I could feel you shaking.”

I hiss, closing my fist so he can’t lick again, “Shut it!”

One lumbering furry bundle of energy comes charging over, barking. I let out a startled shriek, legs squeezing tightly together and my hands block the second overly enthusiastic face from it’s interest in getting up in my business; my missing-a-layer-of-clothing business. The other interested party, Oliver, puts himself between me and the dog before it can touch me, just as a second and third hound come loping over to join in with excited barks, all three animals sniffing and bumping up against him.

Are there no leash laws here? I’m embarrassed by my overreaction, making shooing sounds and motions to try and keep us free of puppy kisses and sneezes when a voice, the owner, calls from maybe a hundred yards away. The tenseness that filled Oliver’s frame at my shriek does not leave him, even as it’s obvious the animals aren’t a danger. A sharp whistle and a command have the dogs sprinting back.

“Sorry, didn’t expect anyone out in these parts,” the man shouts, “They wouldn’t hurt a fly, just forgetting the rules. They get a mite spooked with the fireworks going on so I let them run, they know better than to bother strangers.”

Oliver makes some sort of dismissive response that it’s fine, his face contradicts the words but it’s not like the stranger can see. Our walk back is slow and quiet, and we make it back to the hotel after the fireworks taper off.

A quick rinse off and he tries to go back down on me but it’s not quite the same. The desire is there but he’s not relaxed and we end up settling down into soft touches when our enthusiasm fades. It’s barely past nine when we decide to call it an early night so we’ll be ready for the early flight.

I try to sneak a quick glance at my phone, email withdrawal hitting hard but it’s powered itself off. The battery must have died somewhere on our trip up the coast and because it was in silent mode there was no buzz or chime to warn me. “Hey, toss me your phone, I’ll plug them both in so they’re ready before we leave tomorrow.” Oliver gives me a look that lets me know I’m not fooling him. “I’ll leave them off, just charging!” Mildly chagrined, I do, and get one last kiss before he pulls the blanket up and cradles us together.

The circumstances that shaped this unbreakable fragile man are things I had no control over. I know that I don't know everything. It’s obvious that he shared some, not all, like anyone would do to protect themselves but damned if I'm not going to show him he is safe and wanted with me. Even after these past few years of working together, he’s still so set on being this fortress with all the emotion trapped away inside, but I’ve seen the shift from stoic to that almost startled confusion as I hugged him or John had offered reassurance. The hint of a smile quickly hidden away again that shows the real pleasure in the connection, before he reminds himself that he thinks he isn’t worth it, can’t have it, or whatever other nonsense goes through his brain and steals his happiness.

He has this fortress of protection in his mind, steel gates, stone blocks, moats, mazes, distractions and I'm going to get him to lower the drawbridge and let me in if I have to tiptoe through hell to get there. So I don’t point out that he still doesn’t fully let his guard down. That since that first night he’s made a blanket barrier between us when he thinks I’ve drifted off, or that he doesn’t fall asleep before I do to try and make sure it stays in place.

…

Plane! We’re going to miss the plane!

The thought has my eyes flying open, only to be met with the glow of 10:24 on the clock. Not going to miss the plane…Can’t miss the plane…If I just use my phone as a clock it won’t count, and I can add like five alarms so we are up in time. Stretching my fingers over to the nightstand I snag it, covering the speaker while powering it on.

The thought spills out of me as a yelp, “What the-?!”

Oliver jerks upwards from where he’s snuggled into the pillow-blanket barrier beside me, words slurred as he fights the thick comforter off for his freedom, “Wha’s wrr’gg?” His eyes are fighting to widen while blinking against the glaring brightness of my phone.

“37 messages!”

His eyes flit from me to the phone in my hand, as if trying to figure out how the messages could pose a danger to me. Another look around the room and me again before apparently deciding it’s safe, he wraps an arm around my waist, scoots closer, and spoons against my back, “Too early.”

“I need to set some-“

He nudges the small rectangle back over onto the nightstand and out of my hand. “Not been a week. You set up the wakeup call with the reservation.”

“No, I set the ‘quit molesting your gorgeous self because we need to get out the door’ call. It’s not a private jet, we need to be there early for check in, security, boarding-“

Oliver’s hips press forward as his hand snakes down, “Molesting me? Why wouldn’t I be the one molesting you?” A low whisper, “Was having a very good dream about molesting you.”

“Because you do a better job at distracting me from staying on task...” My words turn into a moan as his fingers nudge along then, just barely, inside me.

“Mmm…you’re still slick.” I press on his hand and that pair of fingertips move deeper. A much more awake part of his body presses against my backside, his hips rocking to settle us flush as he teases his lips against my ear. “You take me off plan all the time.”

Rolling his body over mine, it is fast, messy, still half asleep he continues to do a good job at distracting me, and my phone remains a forgotten task.

[johnboothus]

How to Make Sense of Sustainable Wine Certifications

Discerning consumers are increasingly aware of what they put into their bodies, and concerned about the ethical and sustainable ramifications of products they choose to buy. In the food and drinks space, this is now a mainstream tendency, which started with food, then moved into wine.

These developments are a positive step for the environment, but the rush to certify has also led to confusion among wine drinkers, who are confronted by dozens of logos, stickers, and labels on the bottles they pick up in a wine shop.

But some progress is better than none, according to Sophie Drucker, winegrower and vineyard manager of DeLoach Vineyards in California. “If you want to support wineries that are doing something sustainable, start with wineries that are talking about it and have those certifications,” she says.

But there’s no need to panic. VinePair assembled a quick and dirty explainer of the most common labels to know, with testimonials from winemakers about their experiences.

Organic

In the U.S., the United States Department of Agriculture’s National Organic Program certifies organic wines. The core tenet is a complete ban on synthetic fertilizers. To call your wine organic, other materials that go into it, such as commercial yeast, must also be certified organic. If a vintner is only organic in the vineyard, they may use the label “made with organically grown grapes.”

Added sulfites are not allowed in organic wines in the States, but in Europe for example, a certain amount is allowed. Organic winemaking has gained devoted advocates worldwide who believe the benefits of this practice are far-reaching.

“I work with producers who have gone organic because they’ve understood that they will be able to increase their quality level, that they will have a larger expression of terroir, and that they will be able to have a more constant production,” says Jan Kux, the owner of Switzerland-based Natural Organic Agriculture (NOA), who advises European vintners such as Pratsch in Austria.

Biodynamic

Biodynamic farming is, essentially, one step (or several) further along the complexity spectrum than organic. Biodynamic viticulture is done organically but also revolves around an astronomy calendar that dictates farming actions, such as when to prune, water, and pick. It also utilizes various homemade compost-based fertilizers.

At DeLoach, Drucker says the 16.5-acre vineyard was replanted in 2006 and rested for three years to bring back ecological diversity. It was then certified organic in 2009 and certified Demeter, the leading biodynamic stamp of approval, in 2010. All of this additional process comes at a premium. DeLoach’s vineyard-designate, biodynamic wines that come from the estate are priced higher than the bottlings with grapes they source through non-Demeter partners.

SIP Certified

Hahn Family Wines was part of the pilot program for Sustainability in Practice (SIP) back in 2008, a certification that started in California and recently expanded to other spots in the U.S.

“It was a game changer for us,” says Patrick Headley, Hahn’s director of viticulture. “It’s not everyday that you find a program that’s an umbrella that hits all these different areas.”

SIP adopts planet-friendly principles like water management, energy efficiency, and healthy vineyards. Some chemicals are permitted, such as copper and glyphosate, but are heavily restricted. SIP is also equally preoccupied with people, making sure its winery members are treating employees ethically and providing them with things like competitive wages and medical insurance.

Certified California Sustainable Winegrowing (CCSW)

The CCSW label, created by the California Sustainable Winegrowing Alliance in 2010, also has broader concerns than just farming.

“Organic is great,” says Stephanie Honig, director of sales and communications at CCSW-certified Honig Vineyard & Winery in California. “But it says nothing about your water efficiency, your energy efficiency, your recycling practices, the weight of your glass.” CCSW also has requirements for the treatment of employees.

CCSW has a “red” and “yellow” list for chemicals. “Red” materials cannot be used after year two, and wineries must provide written justification for why it is necessary for them to use “yellow” products.

Honig says the certification adds a certain credibility that was lacking before, even though her winery and others were already making efforts to be sustainable. This is an investment, of course. When the winery put in solar panels in 2006, Honig estimates it cost $1 million out of pocket. But because they provide the facility with free power, she says the return on investment was eight to 10 years, while the lifespan of a solar panel is 25 years.

“Part of sustainability is staying in business,” she says. “If you have a business that’s not sustainable, that’s not going to work.”

Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED)

LEED is a unique certification because it focuses on the “green” design and architecture of a facility, as opposed to vineyards or business practices. It’s most often used for residential buildings but has filtered through the commercial space as well. For Nancy Irelan at Red Tail Ridge Winery in the Finger Lakes, building her LEED-certified winery in 2009 was not easy but well worth it.

“It was very difficult because no one had implemented LEED certification in the wine industry in upstate New York,” she says. “There really wasn’t a knowledge base here, and finding the properly certified architects and contractors was a struggle.”

As small business owners, Irelan and her husband, Michael Schnelle, were most concerned with energy savings and using alternative energy to improve their bottom line. “We actually paid back on that investment in two and a half years. That’s phenomenal,” she says.

B Corporation

B Corporation is another certification that evaluates both social and environmental standards. It’s one of the most comprehensive programs out there, and while it’s not just limited to the wine industry, many vintners have joined it.

“We really agreed with the tenets of stakeholder management and sustainability, and leaving places better than you found them,” says Keith Scott, director of marketing at A to Z Wineworks, which became the first B Corp winery in Oregon in 2014. “I think for shoppers who don’t want to become an expert on every last certification, it’s a good overall stamp.”

Symington Family Estates in Portugal became a B Corp in 2019, the first winery in Portugal to do so. “B Corp is appealing because it’s very broad, it’s not just certifying your farming practices,” says associate director Rob Symington, who’s in charge of the company’s sustainability program. “It’s a company-wide certification covering social and environmental factors and core business practices.”

Symington also likes that B Corp is “a roadmap for continuous improvement.” Each time a business recertifies, there are higher standards to achieve. Another benefit both Scott and Symington mention is that the fee for certification is commensurate with a company’s profits, making it attainable for even small wineries with slim margins.

The article How to Make Sense of Sustainable Wine Certifications appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/sustainable-organic-natural-wine-certifications-guide/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/how-to-make-sense-of-sustainable-wine-certifications

[isaiahrippinus]

How to Make Sense of Sustainable Wine Certifications

Discerning consumers are increasingly aware of what they put into their bodies, and concerned about the ethical and sustainable ramifications of products they choose to buy. In the food and drinks space, this is now a mainstream tendency, which started with food, then moved into wine.

These developments are a positive step for the environment, but the rush to certify has also led to confusion among wine drinkers, who are confronted by dozens of logos, stickers, and labels on the bottles they pick up in a wine shop.

But some progress is better than none, according to Sophie Drucker, winegrower and vineyard manager of DeLoach Vineyards in California. “If you want to support wineries that are doing something sustainable, start with wineries that are talking about it and have those certifications,” she says.

But there’s no need to panic. VinePair assembled a quick and dirty explainer of the most common labels to know, with testimonials from winemakers about their experiences.

Organic

In the U.S., the United States Department of Agriculture’s National Organic Program certifies organic wines. The core tenet is a complete ban on synthetic fertilizers. To call your wine organic, other materials that go into it, such as commercial yeast, must also be certified organic. If a vintner is only organic in the vineyard, they may use the label “made with organically grown grapes.”

Added sulfites are not allowed in organic wines in the States, but in Europe for example, a certain amount is allowed. Organic winemaking has gained devoted advocates worldwide who believe the benefits of this practice are far-reaching.

“I work with producers who have gone organic because they’ve understood that they will be able to increase their quality level, that they will have a larger expression of terroir, and that they will be able to have a more constant production,” says Jan Kux, the owner of Switzerland-based Natural Organic Agriculture (NOA), who advises European vintners such as Pratsch in Austria.

Biodynamic

Biodynamic farming is, essentially, one step (or several) further along the complexity spectrum than organic. Biodynamic viticulture is done organically but also revolves around an astronomy calendar that dictates farming actions, such as when to prune, water, and pick. It also utilizes various homemade compost-based fertilizers.

At DeLoach, Drucker says the 16.5-acre vineyard was replanted in 2006 and rested for three years to bring back ecological diversity. It was then certified organic in 2009 and certified Demeter, the leading biodynamic stamp of approval, in 2010. All of this additional process comes at a premium. DeLoach’s vineyard-designate, biodynamic wines that come from the estate are priced higher than the bottlings with grapes they source through non-Demeter partners.

SIP Certified

Hahn Family Wines was part of the pilot program for Sustainability in Practice (SIP) back in 2008, a certification that started in California and recently expanded to other spots in the U.S.

“It was a game changer for us,” says Patrick Headley, Hahn’s director of viticulture. “It’s not everyday that you find a program that’s an umbrella that hits all these different areas.”

SIP adopts planet-friendly principles like water management, energy efficiency, and healthy vineyards. Some chemicals are permitted, such as copper and glyphosate, but are heavily restricted. SIP is also equally preoccupied with people, making sure its winery members are treating employees ethically and providing them with things like competitive wages and medical insurance.

Certified California Sustainable Winegrowing (CCSW)

The CCSW label, created by the California Sustainable Winegrowing Alliance in 2010, also has broader concerns than just farming.

“Organic is great,” says Stephanie Honig, director of sales and communications at CCSW-certified Honig Vineyard & Winery in California. “But it says nothing about your water efficiency, your energy efficiency, your recycling practices, the weight of your glass.” CCSW also has requirements for the treatment of employees.

CCSW has a “red” and “yellow” list for chemicals. “Red” materials cannot be used after year two, and wineries must provide written justification for why it is necessary for them to use “yellow” products.

Honig says the certification adds a certain credibility that was lacking before, even though her winery and others were already making efforts to be sustainable. This is an investment, of course. When the winery put in solar panels in 2006, Honig estimates it cost $1 million out of pocket. But because they provide the facility with free power, she says the return on investment was eight to 10 years, while the lifespan of a solar panel is 25 years.

“Part of sustainability is staying in business,” she says. “If you have a business that’s not sustainable, that’s not going to work.”

Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED)

LEED is a unique certification because it focuses on the “green” design and architecture of a facility, as opposed to vineyards or business practices. It’s most often used for residential buildings but has filtered through the commercial space as well. For Nancy Irelan at Red Tail Ridge Winery in the Finger Lakes, building her LEED-certified winery in 2009 was not easy but well worth it.

“It was very difficult because no one had implemented LEED certification in the wine industry in upstate New York,” she says. “There really wasn’t a knowledge base here, and finding the properly certified architects and contractors was a struggle.”

As small business owners, Irelan and her husband, Michael Schnelle, were most concerned with energy savings and using alternative energy to improve their bottom line. “We actually paid back on that investment in two and a half years. That’s phenomenal,” she says.

B Corporation

B Corporation is another certification that evaluates both social and environmental standards. It’s one of the most comprehensive programs out there, and while it’s not just limited to the wine industry, many vintners have joined it.

“We really agreed with the tenets of stakeholder management and sustainability, and leaving places better than you found them,” says Keith Scott, director of marketing at A to Z Wineworks, which became the first B Corp winery in Oregon in 2014. “I think for shoppers who don’t want to become an expert on every last certification, it’s a good overall stamp.”

Symington Family Estates in Portugal became a B Corp in 2019, the first winery in Portugal to do so. “B Corp is appealing because it’s very broad, it’s not just certifying your farming practices,” says associate director Rob Symington, who’s in charge of the company’s sustainability program. “It’s a company-wide certification covering social and environmental factors and core business practices.”

Symington also likes that B Corp is “a roadmap for continuous improvement.” Each time a business recertifies, there are higher standards to achieve. Another benefit both Scott and Symington mention is that the fee for certification is commensurate with a company’s profits, making it attainable for even small wineries with slim margins.

The article How to Make Sense of Sustainable Wine Certifications appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/sustainable-organic-natural-wine-certifications-guide/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/611754792896872448

[suzanneshannon]

CSS-Tricks Chronicle XXXVII

Chronicle posts are opportunities for me to round-up things that I haven't gotten a chance to post about yet, rounded up together. It's stuff like podcasts I've had the good fortune of being on, conferences I've been at or are going to be at, happenings at ShopTalk and CodePen, and more.

My talk at JAMstack_conf

We recorded a live episode of ShopTalk Show as well:

A guest on The Product Business Podcast

I had the pleasure of interviewing @chriscoyier on @productbiz, we discussed how css-tricks engagement changed post-Twitter, monetizing @codepen, JAMstack, and more. Listen here: https://t.co/4jY0M0bhuP pic.twitter.com/REtt2xJWHY

— Scott Bolinger (@scottbolinger) September 18, 2019

Happenings at CodePen

As I write and publish this, we're rolling out a really cool new UI feature. Wherever you're browsing CodePen you see grids of items. For example, a 6-up grid of Pens. Click them and it takes you to the Pen Editor (there are some shortcuts, like clicking the views number takes you to Full Page View and clicking the comments number takes you to Details View). Now, there is a prominent action that will expand the Pen into a modal right on that page. This will allow you to play with the Pen, see it's code, see the description, tags, comments... really everything related to that Pen, and without leaving the page you were on. It's a faster, easier, and more fun way to browse around CodePen. If you're not PRO, there are some ads as part of it, which helped justify it from a business perspective.

Other newer features include any-size Teams, user blocking, and private-by-default.

Oh! And way nicer Collections handling:

Quickie 3 minutes on how WAY improved the “Add to Collection” UI is on @CodePen now.https://t.co/SfnvXHC5Z3

— Chris Coyier (@chriscoyier) October 23, 2019

Part of life at CodePen is also all the things we do very consistently week after week, like publish our weekly newsletter The CodePen Spark, publish our podcast CodePen Radio, and produce weekly Challenges to give everyone a fresh prompt to build something from if you could use the nudge.

Upgrading to PRO is the best thing you can do to support me and these sites.

My talk at FITC's Web Unleashed

My talk at Craft CMS's dotall Conf

I was on a panel discussion there as well: The Future of Web Development Panel with Ryan Irelan, Andrew Welch, Matsuko Friedland, Marion Newlevant, and myself. Here's that video:

Conferences

I don't have any more conferences in 2019, but I'll be at a handful of them in 2020 I'm sure. Obviously I'm pretty interested in anything that gets into front-end web development.

Remember we have a whole calendar site for upcoming front-end development-related conferences! Please submit any you happen to see missing.

The only ones I have booked firmly so far are Smashing Conf in April / San Francisco and June / Austin.

Happenings at ShopTalk

We don't even really have "seasons" on ShopTalk Show. Instead, we're just really consistent and put out a show every week. We'll be skipping just one show over the holidays (that's a little nuts, honestly, we should plan to take a longer break next year).

We're edging extremely close to hitting episode #400. I think it'll end up being in February. Considering we do about a show a week, that's getting on eight years. Questions like: Are we played out? Are people finding us still? Are people afraid to jump in? Are people as engaged with the show this far in? - have been going through my mind. But anytime we mention stuff along those lines on the show, we hear from lots of people just starting to listen, having no trouble, and enjoying it. I think having a "brand" as established as we've done with ShopTalk Show is ultimately a good thing and worth keeping on largely as-is. We might not be as hot'n'fresh as some new names in podcasting, but even I find our show consistently interesting.

Some of our top-downloaded shows in the last few months:

Greenfield

Making Money on the Web

Picking the Perfect Stack

Technical Writing with Rachel Andrew

Ducktapes

I was on an episode of the Duck Tapes Podcast they called SVG with Chris Coyier:

The post CSS-Tricks Chronicle XXXVII appeared first on CSS-Tricks.

CSS-Tricks Chronicle XXXVII published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/