#Oceania Interrupted

[afvall]

Whumptober day 1! Race against the clock

Nathan's T.O. is terminal :( and the whump wave starts in Oceania, baby!

Very mild body horror cw? It's really only alluded to happening in the future. I'll still tag it though❤️

Some sex jokes are made as well❤️

First x men fic, be mean!

Also ness is still dead in this one 💔

And title from the last unicorn!!

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How can anything that is going to die be real?

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Even awesome half-metal telekinetics from the future weren’t immune to the human body’s failures. Wade knew that he was the perfect candidate for all the cruelties the world had torn into his mind and body, the trauma and the cancer and the slipping mind, he was meant for all that. He was doomed for this life ever since he was born, the second he entered this cruel world he knew it was cruel and that that cruelty would stay with him his whole life. But he felt, in his cancer-ridden heart, Nathan wasn’t meant for this. Whatever it was that made it fine for Wade to suffer but not Nate beat him, whatever intrinsic value that differed between them wasn’t really something Wade could define and point to, but he felt it was there, and he felt that there was something far more hopeless and depressing in Nathan’s suffering. Maybe it was the way his smile lines interrupted smooth skin instead of indented and marred flesh, or maybe it was the way he’d managed to save his wife and daughter’s life, even if they were so many years apart from one another, maybe that was what made Nathan’s suffering worse than Wade’s.

Wade ran his thumb across the thin, tentacle-ish metallic string which crawled its way up Nathan’s collarbone, a strike of lighting which didn't vanish from the flesh toned sky it had impressed itself across. Nathan swore under his breath, the skin surrounding the metal intrusion tinted slightly redder than the rest of him. Wade understood that pain, the constant, ever present pain, that faded into the background eventually except when something put it under a spotlight. Whether the spotlight be from a flare up or from a time like this, as Wade drew his hand away from the fresh and tender metal-filled valley.

“Y’know, the tentacle sex alien STD or whatever isn’t as cool when it's killing your future boyfriend” Wade’s voice rang out, sounding more melancholy than he’d intended.

“Where’d you get tentacle sex from?” Nathan huffed amusedly, bringing one of his arms around Wade’s waist slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to love another, as if Nathan wasn’t being consumed by the T.O. quicker than his telekinesis could handle these days.

“Have you read issue sixteen of Cable & Deadpool? I get that the authors going for more of a movieverse vibe, especially since it's far more contained than all the convoluted comic bullshit, but i really do think that Fabian Nicieza gave us something special there” Wade’s inane fourth-wall shattering rambles would usually help him calm down a bit, diffuse a far too emotional situation when he needed it, let him soften the blow of all the bad shit that happened to him and the people he loved with humour and his general insanity, because if he let himself feel all the devastation and loss in his life in its entirety, he’d be a far more broken man than his marred and spoilt skin let on.

Nathan sighed as Wade’s nonsensical prattling concluded, pressing his body against Wade’s and now wrapping both his arms around his waist in a way far softer than all his hardcore 90’s action porn comics would ever let him be. Wade’s arms ran up Nathan’s back, one sliding over the corded metal muscles and the other over softer yet still battle-torn skin. The world was so quiet here, in their apartment, in spite of the sounds of the road and street seeping into the drywall, and Wade would keep it like this forever if he could. Quiet. In one anothers embrace. And that little pocket of time could protect Nathan from the virus which consumed his body. Protect Nathan, the idea would be funny if it wasn’t for the disease running over his flesh and wrapping itself around his organs, and the mental image of the T.O. invading Nathan’s innards made Wade remember the scans of his chest displaying the red sections of where his cancerous tumours were eating away at him. And how he’d lost Vanessa. And how he was going to lose Nate now, too. The only people that saw past the mangled flesh and unrelenting quips and comebacks to the person inside, who’d stand so raw and exposed under their love.

“It’ll take years, Wade, for this to get the best of me. I’ve been controlling it since I was young, it just gets more aggressive as it grows with me.” Nate’s head was tilted down by Wade’s neck, words pressing into the ruined skin. For a moment, Wade imagined Nate as a little kid, already battling the virus every moment of every day of his life, and thought, certainly, Nathan didn’t deserve that.

“I wanna be with you forever” Wade says like Nate wouldn’t eventually go back to his present once he’d fixed all he could in the past. With a time limit on his save-the-world shenanigans, this might just be Nate’s forever, giving every last bit of himself to the world in this time before he’d have to go, ensuring something better for his family.

Life is a series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness. This break would be spoiled by the unrelenting and sickening pain which seeped across Nathan’s skin and the knowledge it would all come to a very body-horror-ish end, and body-horror was Wade’s thing, but he didn’t want it to be Nathan’s. He wished Nate could just parade that sexy robot arm around forever, but his forever was coming to an end. Wade would watch Madame Web on repeat while having to cut off his balls with craft scissors for all of eternity if it was in exchange for Nate’s health and comfort, yet unfortunately no cosmic being has presented the opportunity to him yet.

“All good things come to an end, but that doesn't mean they never happened, and that doesn't mean you can’t enjoy them while they last, Wade. How about instead of wallowing in our pity for one another, we can have a beer and watch TV before bed. Sounds like a plan?” alright Nate, you got me.

“Sounds like a plan” Wade pretended that the metal under his palms and across Nate’s back didn’t make his chest a little tighter than usual as he heard those words, and kissed Nate softly.

[madmarchhare]

When the Times Change Chapter 1 and 2

This is the first and second chapter of my post-apocalyptic story, that if first began in September 2020. It may still need some corrections, but represents a story that I am incredibly proud of and is the one I intended to get published and finalized first, above all else. The whole set of chapters currently written only would encompasses less than one third the whole narrative I intend to write, but will form a full novel. I hope you all enjoy it.

Crossroads: ‘of the devil and saints’

In the year 2025, following a petty squabble between the nations of China, India, America and Russia, the world ended. Then, the New World began, and, as always when new lands are found, soon again rose the conquerors. The megalomaniacs, those consumed by avarice, the zealots, the preachers and the profiteers.

As has always been the case: from the discovery of the ‘New World’ in the age of colonialism, European nations, most prominently Spain and Portugal, leapt upon those resource-rich lands. Conquistadors plunging headfirst to the new age, consumed by lust for riches and power in frantic megalomania. And, when this age came to an end, heads turned to seek the riches of the Middle East, Asia, Africa, Oceania and the islands of the Pacific.

Whatever tragedy befalls the world, in whatever new age it is dragged, kicking and screaming into, there will always be someone who will make money off it. So now I bring my narrative to myself. Sat in a cast-iron cage upon the back of a lorry, held together by zip ties and hardened blood and pus. Bound and shackled to the seats: grimy with grease, ash and blood, striped where sweat and rain had rolled down my skin.

Some would call it comeuppance. That this is what I get for a few ‘fraudulent deals’ or ‘scamming’ people. I personally saw it as an affront to my entrepreneurialism; sadly, they were rooted in old ideas. Which I knew held no sway on this New world. But c’est la vie, there would be other opportunities. At the very least I found out that hiding my money in the soles of my shoes was a good idea, as they didn’t check them. Not that it made any difference overall as they just sold off the shoes themselves along with everything else, leaving me in rags.

While others in this situation would either sink into a reverie of dread and self-pity, or throw themselves into fervour to devise an escape, I personally saw it as an opportunity. After all I was too small of stature and too meek in strength to be useful for work. So, the natural conclusion would be that I would probably be sold as a coital slave or ‘boy-toy’. This would mean I would be in close, if slightly sticky and uncomfortable proximity, to an either powerful or wealthy individual.

This situation, if manipulated correctly could bring me to a position far better than before. After all, it is quite easy to manipulate the minds of people consumed by lust. A whisper there, a suggestion here and, if worst-comes-to-worst, a sharp object in a few… sensitive points; and they are putty in your hands. Granted there is always the possibility of being offered up as the bitch for one of their pets or a further gone Quazi… But that eventuality could be dealt with at the time.

It was at this time, however, that I was interrupted from my scheming by the sudden eruption of roaring gunfire. I knew it wasn’t the guards taking shots at far off creatures or fending off one of the bigger beasties of the wasteland, as the guards’ rifles fired much more slowly and with a crackling roar-likely due to poor maintenance. Raiders or bandits seemed unlikely as the chance of people like them having quality weapons like that around here, was slim.

I pulled against my shackles to try and peak through the rough iron bars to see the shooter. I saw essentially nothing, barely able to put my head through the bars, but was able to see a large silhouette laying heavy fire upon the brown coated guards of the lorry, barking loud shouts to someone hidden behind the lorry’s cab as the guards returned meagre fire. I slumped back and cursed the interference. Chances were now I was to be sold to some syphilis ridden, toothless raider, or be used by the massive silhouette themselves, as a plaything, and I doubted I could influence them. At least not before they ended up offing me.

The firefight came to a close with a few blood-choked death garbles then fell to silence. The interferers made their way to the back of the lorry and shot the lock off the door. One was a Quazi, a smaller man than the silhouette I had seen. He had no distinguishing features of a Quazi, no ears, tail or claws typical of them, but had faint scales like freckles on his cheeks and fore-arms that were a shade darker than his tanned skin. His hair was a similar colour to his scales, and his eyes were slightly reptilian looking.

He sighed exasperatedly and said to the larger individual, who was apparently a woman, “Why did you have to shoot the lock? We have the key!” The larger woman blushed slightly and replied, embarrassed:

“Sorry force of habit,” she apologized, embarrassedly. The woman was, well ‘normal’, I suppose would be the word. She was around six foot, possibly over, and muscly, though not homely as some would expect, with close cropped blonde hair and cauliflower ears. The man wore a SWAT vest and a belt made from what looked like snake hide, ironically, looped through jean like trousers, and carried a Veston SMG. A post-war weapon made from tubing and scrap metal. The woman however was dressed in khaki combat trousers and hiking boots, wearing a tactical vest and steel arm guards. She carried what looked like a pre-war LMG.

Straightening herself again she turned to me, “Now come on, we’re freeing you,” she said sternly. I raised an eyebrow at her and gestured to my shackles, rattling them ever so slightly, “oh right,” they unlocked my shackles and helped me down from the lorry.

“Thank you,” I responded flatly “though it was unnecessary,” this made the man give a start and whirl around at me.

“What do you mean ‘unnecessary’ you were being made a slave!” I regarded him coolly and responded.

“I had determined what area I would be used in and I believe that I could have manipulated the situation to either put myself in a position of power or one to escape from if needed,” I fixed him in and irritated gaze though making sure to not let it show heavily on my face. I loathed heroes, “so really, your interference has cost me.”

The man, now red-faced with fury, was pulled back by the large woman, “Rock, calm down, it doesn’t matter, we are fighting to get rid of slavery, not him. Look we saved this young boy from being a slave. Honestly, what monsters would do this to an innocent child?” she remarked, somewhat repulsed.

“Innocent?!” yelled out one of the guards, the other two whirling round, expecting a fight, but saw the man unarmed and hunched over, grasping at his stomach. “He is a criminal! He scammed half the cities residents and two thirds of the visitors and traders,” ending his shout with a bloody cough as he pointed at me with a blood-soaked finger.

“I didn’t scam them, my dear sir. They simply didn’t ask enough questions: it was legitimate business,” I replied in mock indignation. A plain smile affixed to my face, though the tugs of smug fought it.

“So, wait,” Rock interrupted “what did he actually do?” the woman stood to the side of him, somewhat dumbfounded by the situation.

“He,” the guard hissed agitatedly, clutching his gut stiffly as it turned to a russet colour from his blood, “sold half pressure bullets as standard bullets and radioactive water as drinking water,” he glared maliciously at me as he spoke.

“I never said it was standard pressure ammunition, my customers simply assumed. What I said was ‘cheap ammunition in bulk that performs well,”  I regarded him plainly, looking through the other two who stood between us.

He again went red, a flush of fury overtaking his face. “That’s false advertising!” 

“No, I said it did it’s job well, and its job was to fire and hit the target, not as well as standard bullets maybe, but for what it was it did it well. I never lied or said anything fraudulent, my friend. And if I, were you, I wouldn’t get so worked up, you’ll bleed out faster,” placing my hand to my breast with mock earnest.

“Then what about your water, got an excuse for that?!” collapsing against the side of the lorry as he spoke, the fury in his face slowly being replaced by a white pallor of exhaustion.

“An excuse would imply I did something wrong. I have a reason as to why I am in the right, I said it was ‘full of natural energy’ and that it ‘would make you glow’. It is not my fault my clients neglected to ask what type of energy or if it was a ‘healthy’ glow,” I answered in a patronizing tone, the guard descended into a silent fury, and sat hunched against the lorry grinding his teeth.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” broke in the woman, “this kid’s a criminal?” gesturing broadly to me.

“Yes,” the guard grunted out uncomfortably, which he followed with a hacking cough. She then turned to me and ran a hand through her short hair.

“Well according to them, I am a criminal. I, actually did nothing legally wrong. I was a business man, doing business,” I replied honestly, my arms outstretched but keeping my palms closed. “Oh, and I’m not a kid, I’m fifteen.”

Rock twisted round to look at me furiously before turning back to the woman. “We’ve already freed him Lil’, so we might as well, sides, like you said, no-one deserves to be a slave,” the woman sighed and agreed with him and then walked over to the now unconscious guard and laid him out on the ground with his rifle on his chest, strangely not looting the corpse. A waste in truth, one can never have enough supplies, a good bit of advice from an old friend.

“Well, thank you again for your, albeit unnecessary, freeing of me. But I am afraid this is where we part. Au-revoir,” I thanked and began walking away while giving them a backwards wave. I then felt myself being grabbed by the back of my shirt and was yanked back and held up to Lils’ gaze.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded in a low tone squinting at me angrily.

“North, I hear Atost is having a rise in their commercial markets. Drilling is doing well to-” I replied flatly but was cut short.

“Oh-no, not after what we know what you did. You’re coming with us. That way we can keep an eye on you,” she rumbled, glaring at me as she spoke. I looked at them flatly and put a palm to my face, groaning to myself.

One imprisonment to another, I suppose my earlier assessment was not too out of line. She dropped me onto the ground and gestured with her weapon for me to walk. I complied, a feeling of indignation subconsciously boiling in my stomach, though, more preferable to that of a round ripping through it.

Olrick: ‘The Empire of Black Gold’

They walked past the lorry, not even attempting to loot the cab, so I assumed they had another vehicle further on ahead. But they kept walking, and walking. After three quarters of an hour, I asked them agitatedly “Where is your car? You parked it too far away!”

Lil’ glanced at me and responded somewhat happily “We don’t have a car. Why do you ask?” I stared blanched faced at her, my eye twitching slightly as I looked at their backs.

“Then why,” straining as I spoke to appear calm, “did you not take the lorry?” she looked at me as if I had said something ridiculous and responded,

“Because it was a slave truck,” I stared at her waiting for her to continue,

“And?” I asked somewhat savagely, agitation digging at me.

She again looked at me oddly and said, “Does there need to be another reason,” I looked at her deadpan, and sighed heavily, already exhausted with this charade.

“For your information con-man, we do have a car,” called back Rock, dislike gnashing in his voice, “but it’s being fixed at a friends’ shop in Olrick. That’s where we’re going now,” he answered, rocking his head in an odd way as he spoke, like some would when lecturing a bad pet or child.

I looked ahead of him and said plainly, through gritted teeth. “While I appreciate you telling me, my name isn’t ‘con-man’,” he turned back to me and yelled,

“Oh yeah? Then what is it? Charlatan, Swindler, Crook, Loan shark?”

I regarded him coolly watching him for moment before responding. “Asriel. Asriel Lemoni. No- “

“Oh, then I’ll call you Azzy!” Lil’ burst out, cutting me off. I turned quickly to her,

“No, not ‘Azzy’, Asriel! Either call me Asriel or Mr. Lemoni, nothing else.”  

“Now, ‘Azzy’, I don’t believe you are in a position to make demands. After all you are, essentially, our prisoner, so we decide what to do with you and, therefore what to call you.” Rock called back, a mocking tone loosely hidden in his words.

“Oh joy…” slouching as I groaned. One would not expect to be held prisoner by two sets of ‘vigilantes’ in one’s lifetime, much less in the same day.

We walked for three and a quarter hours. The journey was both pleasingly and infuriatingly uneventful. While there was no risk of being killed by an attack from a monster or some lunatic with a hacksaw, consequently there was not a single period where the two self-proclaimed ‘liberators’ were distracted enough to allow me to escape unnoticed. The journey was conducted with the two others continuing an endless prattle, in which they did not include me. I paid attention of course, hoping to obtain some substantial information, either to ward off their suspicion of me or to seek the aid of someone they crossed. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ after all.

But it was little use, they talked mostly of what they should do next, either traveling to Grant or Palace, two low-level slavers, and trying to free the slaves there or going and stocking up at Memorial. A pleasant little market settlement, though not one to stay the night unless you had either some skill with a knife or a few indebted clients to act as bodyguards. As for enemies, those that they mentioned as crossing, were mostly too weak to be of any assistance, and the two that were of any real power, either wanted me in gaol, or were not the type to bargain.

We arrived by the outskirts of Olrick, the grand ‘city’, as they insisted it be called, stood backed against a high cliff whose crest was hidden by a dirty mass of black and yellow clouds of the city’s own making. The lanes winding round it led off in all directions. An irregular flow of lorries and vehicles ran along the lanes. The high tower of the oil derrick that gave the city its name stood above the entire city, towering over its formal grounds and the ramshackle slums that stood outside its walls. All were drenched in a thin layer of oil and tar. Olrick like many cities in the wastes was a walled city. Entrances being at each of the three compass points around its perimeter, excluding, of course, its back. Yet despite the image the slums presented, even those who dwelled there found reasonable wealth. Such was the way in Olrick.

We entered the city through the Western District, having to pass through the deep slums that crowded up to the city walls like dirty ivy. The town, as I said, was built around a large oil derrick, and as such was a prime centre for oil. Since the resource was vital, as few had the know-how to convert vehicles, even less build new ones, to use another fuel, it prospered, surrounded by refineries and scrappage flats that housed the vast number of workers that the city required. There had been many tribal wars over it: small settlements and warlords seeking it out as the black jewel in their crown, or the gilding of their ‘empire’. But the aggressors always lost. Even if they did win and seized the city, they couldn’t run the derrick, lacking the manpower and the intelligence, or even simply the funds. So as soon as they buckled and fled, the old leaders returned.

It was a filthy place. The instant you walked near its walls a shortness of breath caught you as if you were up a mountain. The air was always heavy with oil fumes, tarry and soot stuffed, yet perpetually dry. The ground around the settlement was coal black with the rainbow splash of oil painting every canvas and strangling every puddle. The grand cliff face behind it so thick with soot and oil that it appeared solidly made of darkness itself. It was a wonder of industrial progress and a grand example of New-World entrepreneurialism. But one could see why the settlement leaders here all lived in houses outside or shielded from it.

We walked along the Main Street for most of the way, dodging the endless crowds of workers in dirty overalls rushing betwixt the streets and electric mini-trucks and the oil half-shunters, each sinking into the background as they walked, or drove. Thankfully I had some shoes on, unfortunately they were ineffectual-the black mud and sand continually creeping over their rims. It presented a foul sensation, like walking in mud and being covered with petrol at the same time. They were fashioned, apparently, after Japanese ‘uwabaki’, a slipper they had once used in prisons-and a simple design for a place with limited textiles like Verdant. I looked about the street for a large group, hoping to slip between them and loose the other two, but before I could move away, they turned down a back street pulling me after them, dashing that plan of escape.

We weaved between the winding and crooked backstreets, ducking under, and hopping over the winding pipes and cabling that hung off the walls and crawled across the city within its streets and alleys, popping in and out of the ground like old roots. Dirty gas lamps hung on the walls all interconnected by a copper cobweb that supplied them, offering their weak light in the covered alleys, grimly showing the cast steel, sooty brick or concrete walls of houses. We exited one of the alleys, the fingering light poking through the top of it, and it opened into a half street.

It was stuffed with shops and vendors, the shoddy buildings practically elbowing each other aside to be on the street front. The roadway was filled with raggedy-clothed workers off-shift, or those hunched against walls: homeless or lame. A perfect quarry for money lenders, seeking those who are desperate but not destitute. The two of them pulled me across the street, weaving between the exhausted and dishevelled faces of the workers into a garage.

It, like all of the other shops sported a neon painted sign, made of scrap and hand forged metal. It was called “Victors Vehicles”, an instant smack of the ‘quality’ of the establishment. Still, I could respect a sense of business in anyone.

“Lil’, Rock! How the fuck are yah? Aint heard hide nor hair of you two since you dropped off yer waggon!” yelled a man clad in oily blue overalls. He spoke with a long, heavy drawl, making his words sound as if they were more fitting to a drunkard’s lips. He stood about 5’11” wearing a mouldy petrol cap atop his dirty blonde hair that poked from its plastic brim. His face was framed by a pair of box-rimmed glasses which were tied tight to his brow by stained twine, so his squarish face was only really able to be seen in silhouette, due to the layered grime that caked it.

“We’re good. We went to see about that story about Verdant trafficking slaves. We raided the lorry that they were supposedly using and that’s where we found him,” Lil’ answered, gesturing to me with her thumb as she finished. I regarded them coolly from the corner of my eye, then started to walk about the shop, letting my gaze wander about. It was a single storied building, the roof made of a mix of corrugated iron sheets and multi-coloured scraps of tarp pulled taught over the top, stuffed full of old shelves of tools and mechanical scrap. The roof sloped with a gradual gradient on each side of the building, making it seem higher than it was. Dim bulbs hung from it, a mixture of old LEDs and filament bulbs. The latter were the easiest things to make apparently and could last for a century if made right. A man in Coldern up north told me that. Unfortunately, I saw no exit during that first look.

“Unfortunately,” Rock added, “the slave, that bloke we were talking about, happened to be a convicted con-man and scam-artist. I guess that was his punishment for the suffering he caused.” He glared at me hotly, Victor following his gaze to look at me closely his expression still unidentifiable through the grime.

“I am as irritated as you are,” I responded, keeping my back to him, as I walked closer to one of the shelves and began to look through them idly, “you have in all likelihood, robbed me of a golden opportunity to get close to a member of Verdant’s elite. The sheer political and financial gain you have cost me is frankly immeasurable.”

At the end of my remark Victor turned to me again and shouted: “Now listen here, you brat, do you understand the vastness of that situation?! You, were, a slave!” I turned to him and studied his expression, faint wrinkles barely expressed his outrage- an odd thing as his fury was in all truth baseless.

“I don’t see why you are all getting so hot-collared about this. Slavery is a legitimate business practice, has been for decades, and was so for many centuries before the War,” I dismissed, their faces twisted into greater anger, a plain revulsion in their stances as I turned back to looking through the various drawers on the shelfs.

“It’s a violation of human life. What is a person’s life worth to you?!” Rock yelled, his face revealed his clear disgust, somewhat more so than the others, as I peered at him from the corner of my eye.

“Going rate at Vesta’s, bit more for Quazi’s. They have all that extra muscle and the ‘exotic’ feel,” I answered. All three of them looked about ready to bite my head off but I cut them off: “Ironically, most people end up going for less than the sum of their parts. Do you have any idea of how much a good heart can cost? I’ll give you a hint, it’s more than an arm and a leg! Hah!” chuckling at my own joke as I finished, while they stared at me in fury and disgust. I chuckled to myself for a moment before falling silent and turning before I waived them off and turned back to the shelves, hoping to find something of value. Misery guts!

Both Rock and Lil’ sighed heavily and turned back to Victor. “So did you manage to fix her?” Rock inquired, wanting to leave the subject behind. Victor turned from me and adopted a pensive expression, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

“I did, but, the repairs… They cost more than what you left me, so you kinda owe me right now,” he finished, pausing frequently as he spoke, somehow making him sound even less coherent, his gaze lingering in a section in the back of the shop that led to another room where the car was probably sat.

“Why didn’t you take some of the money from our pack? We said you could if what we gave you wasn’t enough,” Lil’ asked naively, Rock nodding along with her. I wondered how on earth they had managed so far.

“Well, I did- and it still weren’t enough, new parts like what your car needs cost a good deal yah-know,” a pensiveness punctuated with irritation in his voice. The pair gave a start and stared flabbergasted at the mechanic.

“How?!” Lil’ demanded. “There was over fifty-thousand Note in our pack! Along with the twenty-five thousand we gave initially!” at the mention of the fifty grand, I turned to look at them and began to slowly edge close to them, the trio too sunken in their conversation to notice me.

“I know darlin’, but that still wasn’t enough! Y’all needs ta understand: car parts are expensive anywhere, ‘cept maybe JunkTown, but your car needs high quality parts. Combined with the natural inflation of prices in this city, an’ what you paid barely covers half of the price of the repairs,” he explained, trying his best to sound apologetic, the sincerity of it though, was unlikely.

When they finally understood both Rock and Lil’ took on a crestfallen look, almost seeming to shrink, but quickly switched to an expression of anxiety and panic. “So, what can we do?” Asked Rock, his voice panicked and somewhat pleading, a sound I had not heard before. Victor looked at him somewhat nervously, uncomfortable in the situation, looking as if he was stood on a bed of nails.

“Well, you know I’m not charging yah for labour, so it’s just the cost of parts,” he began, attempting to calm down the pair “and I’m fine letting you work at the shop to pay off what you owe, help with the Watch too, always could do with some more rifles to bare, but it’s gon’ ta take a while. An I know you wanted to get moving as soon as your car got done, but this job, despite what I charge… isn’t that lucrative,” he finished, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, striping his filthy brow to reveal skin pale with stress.

“But Victor, we need to get going! You know we’ll make it somewhere and come back. Lives are at stake here!” Lil’ pleaded, a wild look rooted deep in her eyes.

“I’m sorry Lil’, truly I am, but I don’t know that. I need you to make it here, preferably quick, for both our sakes,” he answered, a sternness in his voice that had hidden itself before. Lil’ glared at him for moment then sighed heavily, slumping over, Rock stepping in closer patting her back. A smirk played on the corner of my lips, which I quickly hid. I understood the opportunity presented. I sauntered close to them.

“So, you need money, do you?” I asked sardonically, standing with my side to them, hiding my other side as I caught their attention, “Now if only you had someone who could help with that,” I continued cheek lifting my words. They stiffened slightly as I turned to one of the shelfs by the door and made as if I was looking through them.

“We don’t want your help,” Rock’s voice turning to a low growl, a foulness in his tone as if the devil had just asked him to pass the sugar. I clicked my tongue at him admonishingly.

“Whether you want it or not is irrelevant. What matters, is that you need it,” I turned back to them a smug smile hung from my lips. Rock was just about to protest when Lil’ began to straighten up and walk over to me.

“What are your demands?” she choked out. I smiled at her, attempting to look consoling.

“Very professional. Now don’t look so glum, I’m not the devil,” I replied jovially. She looked at me dead-eyed and I continued with a dull expression, “thirty percent of the profits, and I get to choose how I make it, and you take me to Verdant.” I was slightly sore at the low cut, but decided to be cautious of how far I could push them.

“Why do you want to go back there?” asked Rock, surprised.

“I had something confiscated when they arrested me, I would like to get it back. I know where they are selling it before you protest,” leaning past Lil’ to answer to him.

“Fine” Lil’ said heavily, I smiled at her and opened my mouth to speak, but she put a finger to my lips before I could. “But I have one condition of my own,” I looked at her, putting my hand behind my back, motioning for her to continue with my other one. “If you scam these people, or put their lives at risk…” she punched her fists together and cracked her knuckles, “I’ll break you in half.” She stood still for a second then bent down close to me and whispered hoarsely: “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

“Of course, why do you think I asked for such a small cut,” she growled at me, somehow she was more beastly than Rock. “Yes, yes I won’t, or at the very least, no more than the norm of this place,” she glared sternly at me before giving an angry huff and walking back over to Rock.

Again, bound by their vain ideals, still, money is money.

“Well, Victor, lend me a water filter, condenser, trowel and a fractional distiller along with a fruit press and I’ll get started,” I called to him brusquely as I walked over to a steel table on some wheels that stood by the garage’s main door draped with tarp.

“Why do you need all o’ that?” Victor yelled after me, then a second later adding on “And How did you know I had all o’ it?”

“Intuition my friend: now, let us begin,” I declared, rubbing my hands together.

Victor set up the tools I asked for on the table and I got to work. Setting up the fruit press and connecting that with tubes to the water filter, then that to the condenser, which led into two separate jugs, then hid the whole thing under a box. A secret is as valuable as any treasure in trade. I painted the title ‘Lemoni’s cheap oil and clean water’ on the tarp and draped it over the front of the table, which I had placed on the street outside of Victors.

“Really?” asked Rock accusatorily, “Oil? Where are you going to get that?” his gaze harsh on me. I regarded him coolly.

“Watch, my pessimistic jailer,” before Rock could again speak, I shovelled a large pile of the oil slick sand from the street and poured it onto the fruit press. I then pulled down hard on the lever for a few seconds, a dirty black fluid crawling through the tubes into the filter. After a minute both oil and water began to condense in the tubes and collect in the jars. After a second or two of the pair staring at the jars in amazement, Lil’ spoke up.

“Wait so your selling people, that, water as well? It just came from the ground!”     

“All water comes from the ground at some point my dear-besides it’s been filtered and boiled, and I’ll boil it again so it will be fine,” I replied, waiving off her concerns and began to set the water on boil again, though really just when she could see it, simply once was enough to sell.

“But it’s still irradiated! Is this what you did at Verdant?” she berated, I was ever so slightly confused by her implication, who would sell purified water? Irradiated would do!

“It’s still better than what most people have to drink here, in most places really. Very few places have a water purifier, and none of them sell that cheap. At least this is clean. Most people have to drink water so thick with muck that it is practically mud,” I hoped to convince her, after all to earn a lot under her gaze was hard enough without having to come up with plan B.

“He’s not wrong Lil’,” Rock admitted, a sour expression on his face as he said it as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah, most the watering holes in this town serve irradiated drinks, and half of them are made with dirty water,” Victor added, his expression a faint mimicry of Rock’s. At this she took on a crestfallen look, Rock putting his arm over her shoulder to try and cheer her up.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” she said sullenly, her expression in hanging melancholy.

“If it makes you feel any better, think of it as public service! We’re giving them something they need after all,” I added, hoping to get her content enough to leave. It is bad for business to have a heavily armed bleeding heart hanging about.

“I guess you’re right,” she finished in a conflicted tone, taking a breath and straightening up. “But,” she again said leaning in close, “don’t you forget our deal,” she drilled with a sternness in her voice, backed up by a harshly muzzled red fury in her eyes.

“I won’t. Now go; take care of those jobs Victor gave you so I can get to work,” I replied in a reassuring tone, they gave me one last fleeting look then quickly walked round into one of the backstreets that led to some ‘neighbour hood watch’ place.

I made no hesitation in starting. I stood myself on an old crate planted firmly into the ground and prepared my best showman voice. “Cheap Oil! Get your cheap oil here! Just as effective as any other oil you could procure but a fraction of the cost! And if that fantastic deal doesn’t entice you, for every four purchases you get a pint of our clean water free. Full of natural energy, and will give you a glow!” I called into the street, spieling my product boldly into the packed streets, a smile made plainly on my face. Barely a minute went past before a man came up to me.  

“S’cuse me sir,” he asked, his voice raspy and popping, like his lungs were made of paper bags, suiting his paper thin face, blue with stubble and steel shavings, “how much?” I smiled broadly at the man, grabbing his hand and shaking it, keeping my palms on the outside of his hands.

“You have made a brilliant decision today my friend! Now what can I get for you today?” I asked with eagerness. The man took on a slightly surprised expression for a moment, most likely used to solely a sour grunt in response, but quickly pulled his wide mouth into a smile, pleased nonetheless.

“One quart of oil please.” He asked a bit more confident than before, straightening himself up slightly.

“Of course, sir, one quart of oil is a hundred Note. Would you like anything else?” as I placed the jar on the table the man looked at me flabbergasted, as well as a few others that had heard and stopped to turn and look at the stall, ears pricked to us. Perfect. He narrowed his eyes at me, the brownish dots plain in their disbelief, and inspected the jar of oil I had placed down.”

“Hundred Note? Are y-you sure?” he asked still uncertain. I nodded to him and he looked across the table wide eyed. He then looked heavily at the water, licking his lips, as if noticing, quite suddenly, how dry and cracked they were. “So, h-how much is the water?” he inquired shifting nervously on his feet trying poorly to remain nonchalant.

“Eighty Note,” I replied quickly, keeping a broad smile on my face. Got him. “I’ll take two quarts each,” he said holding up two black fingers on his left hand and giving a jerky nod. I handed him the jars and he handed me the money in a ratty bundle and half-ran-half-skipped off, trying unsuccessfully to hide his excitement.

Customers came in droves after that, word of mouth spreading quickly, people clamouring both for water and for oil. In the brief pauses of the waves of people, I would continue spieling my product while wandering my gaze over the street.

It was a low street with most buildings only being one storey tall, and only a few being up to three. They were all made of scrap material-as there were no houses around here before to salvage. They were made of brick, concrete, wood of any timber and steel and iron of as many types. Each was spattered or caked in the grime and grit of Olrick, with rust red copper and steel pipes wrapping around the houses like multi-coloured vines, wrapped in stained bunting and tarp for decoration and repair alike: where windows were present, they rarely had glass, a costly luxury made useless by the black air, often empty vacuums or barricaded by shutters or blinds, or imprisoned in railings.

The roofs were often flat or tented, with few being pointed. Railings and platforms were on many of the rooves, children dashing across their tops, their giggles and shouts accompanied by the yells of angry tenants. Gutters led straight into the street, crooked pipes leading into concrete aqueducts, covered by gratings at crossroads. Dirty and tarry bunting was hung across the street, their bright colours muffled by the muck, along with strings of bulbs with no uniformity. Lamps were hung from walls, wires crawling up them like Ivy. Then bunching up and being hung to a power line, off which hundreds of other wires sprung from like a grand spider’s web, their faded, yet diverse colours striping both the sky and the walls.

The road itself was made of sand and dirt, packed firm in places by the flowing rivers of workers who pounded on it with their heavy steps, but still loose due to the wetness of the city. Oil, paint and other fluids had collected in puddles where the road pitted and bowled, splashed up by an unobservant walker, shortly followed by a short curse, and a grumbling limp. Jetsam and flotsam clumped about the sides of the pavement and were strewn about the roadway itself as well, the occasional loose shirted child dashing out into the street to snatch it up or to use as cover, as they dipped their fingers into loose pockets, a cacophony of yells sounding when they were caught. Street signs either hung from the thin steel wire over the street or on arched over poles stuck fast in the roadsides.

The street was always packed, though thinned out at certain times. The mini-trucks putted or whined up and down the street carrying either goods or workers respectively. The electric ones tended, as I gathered, to be for passengers and non-oil stock. They were built wider and with a taller cab and rear compartment. They were painted a, what likely used to be, cream colour with a purple stripe across its base, the back without doors or seats, simply having poles that passengers held, the four wheels kicking up the sand as they whirred quickly about, stuffed full of workers who held desperately on to the poles. The oil powered ones however were shunters, short with a long engine rather than the flat nosed electric ones. They had no top, the drivers simply in a thick coat and gloves. It had a single front wheel for turning and the two wheels that sat under the long flat bed, always stuffed with white and purple oil drums, were caterpillar tracks.

After a few hours I had earned more than enough, and now I sat in the dimming day, hoping to get the last few dregs of sales. During a moment of reverie from the ebbing flood of customers, where I was again letting my eyes trickle lazily across the streets features, I noticed a group of three men walking boldly across the street from the north end of the road. They walked diagonally across the street, people backing off as to not block them, a slight nervous pallor taking their faces, vehicles coming to a screeching or puttering stop as to let them pass. Passers-by hung pensive gazes on their backs as they strode determinedly forward.

They were members of the Assembly of course. The leaders of this city who managed to outlast all other invaders and occupiers. They wore suits of varying shades of black or grey, with long square tipped shoes. They were distinguishable from lower administrative men by their ties and broaches; each one wore a purple tie with a cream stripe down their middle, the colours of Olrick, and on their right lapel a sun shaped broach cast in a dirty nickel with a cast iron oil derrick with the initials ODA. The ‘Olrick Diplomatic Assembly’.

All three men were tall and slim, though the one who was in the middle was a bit plumper. The tallest one wore a grey top hat with a purple sash, his face grave and both eyes deep set in his head, yet almost seeming to glow despite that. The middle one was of healthier complexion with a great ginger beard and trimmed hair pomaded into a swished back form. He was a Quazi, a slight rarity considering the prejudice some in the Assembly had for them; and was likely some form of felid, though was on the low end of the spectrum like Rock, having only ears and a plump tail swishing about his ankles in a ticking motion. The shortest man, though that term was subjective, wore a black trilby stuck stiffly on his head and was bald, his face hard and thick like that of a boxer or an arena man.

They studied me harshly, inspecting me and the stall as if we were one thing. “Young sir,” The tallest one began, “how did you acquire this oil?” A snideness in his words but spoken with an old yet unwavering voice.

“Do not worry, sir,” I began, planting an amiable expression on my face “I am not here to undermine your profits. This oil is created from some waste components, and I will be taking the stall down before tomorrow.” Finishing politely, a smile on my face.

“Then if we were to check the bunker, we would find no oil missing then?” Inquired the middle one slyly as he leaned close, grinning like, ironically, a Cheshire cat, despite the morbid looks the other two were giving him.

“I thought you didn’t have a spare oil supply.” I replied in mock surprise. Making the middle one instantly realise his error, and quickly became flushed, falling under the fiery sideways stares of his fellow Assemblymen.

“After all you denied it during the Flash Freeze six years ago. Terrible tragedy that.” Turning to look them in the eyes, and keeping my voice low so that it would not carry. “Tens of thousands of deaths, the fall of Oakyard and Pitch, and the devils’ dozens of smaller settlements that sunk into the frost and stayed down. But it could not be helped, after all you were already giving out as much as you could, and anymore would outstrip supply and leave everybody dead, better to save some than lose them all.” I again looked at the men, a slight pallor coming over their faces, as they stood stiffly in the street, the impatient gazes of passers-by likely feeling like knives on their back. “But there is that conspiracy theory that you did have some more, and that you were saving it for profit after the freeze was over.” The men remained silent, most likely either in a flurry to draw up excuses or the names of ‘cleaners’ in equal measure. “But they are just that, conspiracies.” At this the men seemed to relax slightly, an ounce of colour trickling back into their cheeks.  

I chuckled happily and said considerately; “Do not worry, esteemed Gentlemen of the Assembly: I have not stolen from your Bunker, nor do I intend to speak of it. I am not one of those self-righteous imbéciles who declaim need of ‘good morals’ in business, if you had supplied them all it would ruin you. It was simply good business. They had every opportunity to stockpile, but they didn’t. You are guiltless, especially considering how most of those settlements would have been wiped out by Valco, Madre, or the Empress, and Oakyard’s leaders were only good for blowing bubbles about forming a ‘New Union’ or some other half-baked plot while paying off Salvatore with timber.” They looked at me with ambivalence, their relief at my promised silence, along with their discomfort at my nonchalance over others deaths making them uncertain of whether to be happy or disturbed.

“Thank you for your discretion.” Replied the tallest man, dabbing his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief bearing the letters AC. A man with at least some wealth then. “But we still must ask for your name, as record for your business here, regulation you see, we don’t need any details before you ask, just to know that you were here.”

It was a slight bother, but a needed thing for them to protect their business so I could see some sense in it. “Of course.” I replied attempting geniality, the smallest one taking out a scruffy notebook bound in peeling leather, and a stick of charcoal wrapped in scrap tarp, as he leaned next to me as to let me see what he was writing. “Asriel Lemoni, that’s A-s-r-i-e-l, L-e-m-o-n-i, no z’s in Asriel.” I told him speaking in a slow tone as to let him better catch my words.

“Asriel Lemoni? Bit of an odd name.” The tallest man remarked, though not derisively, but as curiosity.

“It’s French.” I replied, with a snap of irritation, it was my name after all.

“Shouldn’t it be pronounced Le-mon-e, not Le-mon-ee then?” Asked the middle man curiously, catching the curious glances from the other too, as well as me. He realized he was under watch and quickly responded “My mother spoke a little bit; her family came from the old Bayou.” The other two nodded in realization then turned back to me.

“It was how my father said it.” I replied with a slight bit of irritation.

“Ah. Well, that resolves the matter of a name.” The tallest one announced, ending the topic. “Well, that is all we required, have a good day sir.” As he began to walk away, I called to him;

“I believe there is a trade fee in this town, so here, I believe this will stifle any protests you come against.” Placing a stack of ten thousand Note into the palm of the tallest one, his face twisting into a nervous smile, his probable plan of nabbing me for not paying the fee foiled. That or he felt it was a bribe and actually forgot, though the latter was unlikely. He tipped his top hat to me as he again bade farewell, the smallest one following suit with his trilby and the middle man offering a simple wave. They began their march back to the Assembly Hall, powerful and direct in their stride, though with a niggling irritation that no busses led there.

A wide smile split my face subconsciously into a toothy grin, what man would not relish in being able to blackmail and entire government. "Un grand jour de commerce, une journée d’opportunité encore plus grande."[1] I took down the stall shortly after that, the presence of the Assembly men having scared the nerve from the passers-by, probably what they had planned, nonetheless, the sun was now slumping low in the sky, half hidden by the high perimeter wall that wrapped Olrick and the collecting black-mist, locally referred to as Oli-mist, that hung in Olrick when wind blew down from the cliff, frosting the town in the dust of old quarries now breeding pits for the monsters that stalked them and the mass graves of raider massacres. Easy clean up.

I sat in a stained deck-chair, half made of plastic tarp from decades of repairs, and counted up my profits. All in all, I made roughly two-hundred and sixty-seven thousand Note from the sales, discounting the ten-thousand I gave to the Gentleman from the Assembly: my 30% share netting me eighty-thousand and one hundred Note. A grand haul considering it cost nothing to make.

The other two got back roughly two hours later, their bodies battered and grimy, shallow slashes across their arms. They had the presence of those whose work defeats them, yet they stood proud, en-doubled by their labour. An odd juxtaposition. Madness really. They reached the store front and Victor came out to meet them, a pleasant expression on his face. Lil’ gave a tired yet proud smile, yet was pulled down by the ropes of failure.

“Hi Victor, we did all those jobs you told us about and we made a decent bit of money, but I don’t think it will be enough.” She said to him a slight humiliation in her tone, slumping over slightly.

“How much did you make.” He asked initially concerned, but then remembered his place and rushed to put on a harder look.

“Forty-nine thousand and five-hundred and forty Note…” She replied embarrassedly, half hiding her face to him. Victor took on a look of amazement and irritation.

“Darlin’ I am amazed you made that much so quickly, but those jobs, if you did all of them should have got you near a hundred thousand! They fleeced ya!” A slight red flush coming to his now somewhat washed face, having dunked it in a basin of cleanish water a bit ago, though still caked with a thin lacquer of muck. He attempted to cheer her up by turning her to anger, but I doubted it would work, the woman barely had any, aside for me, probably taking any sob story they could muster. ‘My kid needs medicine’, ‘I got a bad leg’, ‘I’ll get it to you by the end of the month’ etc. Honestly.

“But they said they were on hard times, and that if I only took a bit, it would help them so much and I…” She responded firmly defending her choice fiercely, something she well had practiced. Victor groaned inwardly, placing a large palm to his face, as I inwardly thought ‘knew it’. Rock tapped her on the shoulder and said to her calmly;

“Don’t worry, we can always work tomorrow and we have Azzy here who’s probably got some loose change from his little lemonade stand.” He finished with a mocking tone, looking at me lightly, not expecting much.

I looked at him irritated, annoyed not only with the nickname but his remark. I stood up calmly with a slightly sour expression on my face, though I wasn’t quite sure what a lemonade stand was, I could tell what it meant, and walked over to the crate where I had placed the money and pulled out the slab of cream-ish notes along with some loose wads, and bundled them into Rock’s arms. His jaw dropped so far that it almost touched the money, Lil’ looked equally as flabbergasted.

“Your seventy percent share of a hundred and eighty-six thousand nine-hundred Note. I earned two hundred and sixty-seven thousand Note in total, minus the fees to trade here. I believe that should be enough for you to pay off your debt now, and with a little to spare as well,” I finished with a smug tone, a bite of sourness within it. I started walking back to the chair, when I turned back and said, “Oh, and don’t call me Azzy,” sitting down and getting myself comfortable in the chair muttering to myself, “Honnêtement, comment avez-vous réussi?”[2]. The pair stood there completely caught off-guard at my gains, truly showing the expectations they had of me.

“I just can’t believe it. How could he earn so much so quickly?” Rock asked incredulously, sitting down on an upturned crate, followed suit by the other two, Victor pulling up a bent folding chair and Lil’ a small wire stool.

“Well, oil is a precious resource even here, along with clean water,” Victor began catching the attention of the other two, “for it to be going so cheap, and for it to seem to be of decent quality, it’s a hot commodity. ‘Sides this is a busy road most of the time.” He finished looking at them calmly, pulling a trio of bottles from a little metal box that were filled with a bluish liquid. Probably rad-berry, a little berry like thing that was quite sweet, if sour sometimes, especially if you picked it too early.

He handed two of the bottles to the pair and before they could speak, he added, “and didn’ you say he was arrested for scamming people? Now, for that you either need to have a good head on yur shoulders, or have charisma pouring off you like syrup from a pancake. An’, from what I heard today, he’s got buckets of both. Got a flair fer it.” He bit the bottle cap in his mouth and pulled it off, the wheeze of carbonated drink echoing in his mouth, and spat out the plain metal cap that was bent round the bottle.

At this Lil’ snapped out, jumping from her seat. “But it was all fake! The water was boiled from the ground and the oil was picked from the same place. He scammed so many people by saying his products are things that they aren’t, then uses how he wrote it to try and dodge and displace the blame onto the people he cheated! Why do people fall for his lies!” her face going red, as she yelled, shoving her face into Victor’s.

“Because they aren’t lies,” Victor said exasperatedly, rolling his head in tired ness after Lil’ snapped back in shock. Lil’s face falling into a mortified expression as Rock stiffened slightly. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at the ceiling. “Now don’t take me wrong. He is in the wrong, yes. If not immoral then amoral at the very least.” Lil’ sinking back down to her seat as he spoke, a sour expression still firmly fixed on her face. “But he doesn’t outright lie to these people, he sells what people need and relies on people to not ask too much further into his half-truths. Most other business men do this, and it tends to be that those are the ones who prosper.”

Lil’ shifted forward and looked as if she was about to say something when Victor put up his hand to stop her. “I’m not saying this to make you like him. Man’s a rotten piece of shit, but there are worse people, and what he does helps some people. You can’t pull up everyone who only knows what they have seen, to your standards. There are better battles to be fought,” his face was drawn as he finished, uncomfortable with his own words. She looked at him, harshly and growled under her breath:

“Just because they are from somewhere else doesn’t mean they get to have worse principles. He is just as human as you or I, he isn’t some feral beast or brain-rotten raider. He has no excuse to be evil just because of who he is and what he believes.” She finished bitterly, tightly gripping the neck of her bottle, glaring at her boots. The pair said nothing, and sat drinking from their bottles, and eventually got up and walked to the back of the shop to lay in the beds apparently in the back of the shop. As I moved to follow, they turned to me and pointed to a black wool cot by the door to the workshop, plain in view, not trusting me to stay put. I turned and hopped into the rough wool, the thick smell of old petrol and bad whiskey wheezing out of it, grumbling I sunk to sleep.

The next day the pair rolled out the car from the garage and handed Victor the pay for his work, giving the man some extra, as a ‘tip’. They piled most of their packs into the car then pulled on some empty rucksacks, saying they were going for supplies. They were just about to leave when someone called to them.

I turned to look and was surprised and irritated to see the same three Assembly men from yesterday walking down the road to them. The tallest man giving a light wave as he approached, the other two walking quickly behind. “You must be ‘El Libertador’, I heard about you on Rio Grande Radio,” the tallest one said warmly, reaching his hand out to her, which she nervously shook a slight look of confusion on her face. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am a member of the Olrick Diplomatic Assembly and the leader of the Environmental Progress Party.” A note of pride in his voice as he spoke, standing up straight as he continued.

“The Environmental Progress Party?” she repeated, cocking her head to the side like a confused dog. The man was unbothered and continued.

“Yes, it is a party in the Assembly that promotes the increasing of safety measures and environmental solutions to energy and the city, and a general clean-up program to try and improve the living conditions of the citizens by reducing the pollution around the city.” His pride beamed across the room. While it was plain that Lil’ was somewhat confused, she perked up at the mention of improving the conditions for people and practically jumped on the man.

“You want to help these people?!” she asked eagerly, like an old warrior who had finally found an ally.

“Not just them, everybody! The reforms we have proposed will improve the lives of everyone in this town. Though more to those that actually need it of course,” the middle one explained looking pleased, a passionate look etched deep in his eyes. Lil’ looked giddy at the thought of it.

“In fact, ma’am,” The tallest man began again, straightening himself up and taking on a much more diplomatic look, “that is why we have come here to talk to you today…” He coughed into his hand, clearing his throat, “you see- despite the benefits these reforms will bring to the people, they face near total opposition within the Assembly,” he finished a pensive look on his face, and shifting his feet about awkwardly, keeping his gaze on the pair, not once having looked round the shop, missing me in the process.

“So, we were hoping you would pledge your support to our party,” the shortest man continued, speaking in a gravely two-tone voice, making it sound like it required great effort for him to speak. “Our cause would gain some publicity, and the people would learn about it and thus put pressure on the other parties on the Assembly… We do rely on the will of the people even if it doesn’t look like it most of the time,” he lightly joked, Lil’ took on a slightly apprehensive look, unsure of what he meant in pledging support. “Nothing massive before you get too worried, just a word or two in approval or promotion will be enough. No need to run around with an initialled Jersey,” he reassured chuckling slightly forcing his face to look friendly, but not quite succeeding, causing Lil’ to slacken slightly.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a darn second,” Butted in Victor, moving his hands like he was physically forcing his way into the conversation, the three Assemblymen turning to him. “I thought the Assembly was already doing environmental policies?” he questioned seriously, jabbing his gloved hand in the direction of the three men.

“They are, but what they are doing at the moment is essentially the equivalent of licking a tree and hoping for maple syrup,” I called from the cot, the three Assembly men turning to look at me surprised, the middle one’s tail bristling in panic.

“I didn’t know you were here Mr Lemoni,” the shortest one said, having to catch his tone as he calmed himself down, the middle one settling down his tail as they spoke. At this the other three turned to me, suspicious looks on their faces.

“You know them?” Rock asked, as I looked at him flatly, not bothered enough to get up from the cot yet, despite the stench and filth of it.

“I met them yesterday. They came to check on my stall and to collect trade fare. It was simply business,” I answered, but they still looked at me with gazes destitute of trust. Sensing the opportunity he was being given the tallest man broke in.

“Mr Lemoni is correct on both counts,” he attested, the other three settling down at that, though still eyeing me heavily. “While outwardly, the current leaders of the Assembly do say they are pursing more ecological practices, it’s all lip-service and pan-handling. The current majority faction, the Olrick Economic Party, is quite conservative in character-they are more concerned with the implied drop in efficiency and efficacy that would come with the change to a more environmentally sound business model, ” he explained somewhat agitatedly when describing the conservative members, showing his apparent dislike of the Assemblymen in question.

Personally, I was more on the side of the conservatives.

“That’s not right,” Lil’ rumbled, clenching her fist as she stood. Suddenly she burst out, brimming with conviction “I’ll support your party Mr…uh, I don’t know your name,” she petered out slightly embarrassed, a flush of red coming across her face.

“Oh yes how rude of me,” the tallest one said nonchalantly. “My name is Antony Carew, this gentleman here,” gesturing to the shortest of the three, “is Burke G. Potts, and finally this man is Charlie. M. Bertillion,” as he finished, he jostled slightly like he had just realised something and added, tuning to Charlie, “I just noticed that your name is French, Charlie. I feel rather foolish now,” Charlie waived him off not bothered while the others were left in the dark about the exchange. Except for myself.

“In any case, thank you ma’am for your endorsement of the party and its’ aims,” Carew resumed a wide smile adorning his face, one matched by Lil’. “Will you be offering your support too, Mr Lemoni?” he asked, turning to me. I returned his look with a flat expression, irritation bubbling in my mind at the question, knowing I would have to work hard to say ‘no’ near the mad animal that was Lil’.

“While your cause may sound admirable, I will not support it. I do not agree with the sentiments behind it,” predictably the three stooges turned to me flabbergasted as I refused, preparing to bite my head off at not agreeing with them at what they saw as right. Somethings cannot be compromised.

But Carew himself simply nodded a slight smile adorning his lips, “Very well, but I assume you will neither support the opposition then?” he added, a slight slyness in his voice. I looked at him lazily from the brim of the cot and replied.

“No, I won’t. I don’t pick sides. Especially if the one whose view I share thinks I should be treated as a second-class citizen in their city unless I pay a hefty premium. I work by business not by politics,” I kept a civil tone as I spoke, keeping to the truth, almost. Carew again nodded, a smile still on his face, still keeping a smug look of victory on it that brought with it a sort of burning sense of irritation as I looked at him.

“Well, now that the formalities have been taken care of, I bid you all good day,” he finished politely, turning as he began walking away. “Oh,” he sounded, stopping suddenly and turning his head back to Lil’, “and Miss, I neglected to ask your name?” A slightly embarrassed tone in his voice at having forgone introductions twice.

“Oh, it’s Lillian, but call me Lil’” she introduced cheerily smiling back at him. The Assemblymen walked off, waiving goodbye, and then the other two resumed loading their car, lifting boxes out from the garage, filled with ammunition, petrol, food, and medicine. A treasure trove any raider or bandit would foam at the mouth for.

I waited for about ten minutes while they loaded the car standing by Rock as he packed something and Idly asked, “So why is she called ‘El Libratador’. Did she get it in an arena?” Rock looked deeply offended at the question, though that was hardly unusual for what I saw of him.

“No, of course not!” he snapped back, lifting up a faded plastic cooler with ‘Medicine’ scrawled in black across a strip of old masking tape and moving over to the car.

“Then what from?” I pursued, a bored tone in my voice. He dropped the tub into the back of the car and then turned to me and bit back,

“Why do you even care?”

“I don’t, I am simply bored, and like to know a few details about my ‘business partners’. Plus, I don’t trust you enough to go buy some better clothes in case you drive off, so I’m waiting until you are finished to escort me,” I answered honestly, getting a sour expression in response, practically the default for his tanned face.

“What do you even need clothes for?” he asked turning back to the car, trying to dodge the question.

“Whilst some in this wretched wasteland may be content with the dress of an escaped convict, I prefer a more dignified, human, sense of dress,” he whirled around quickly his mouth wide to shout, his large teeth on full display and an infuriated expression crossed his features.

An impressive sight.

But I cut him off, “and no that wasn’t a jab at your heritage. I have nothing against Quazi’s personally and still hang you under the moniker of human, so don’t take that as a slight against you,” I snubbed boredly. He settled down slightly but still looked at me with a grimace, baring his teeth. I walked over to the deckchair and laid down in it, Rock standing off from it next to the car.

“All I really know about Lil’ comes from this time and after. I honestly have no clue who or what she was before this,” his voice almost hollowed as he spoke, his usual snide tone almost absent, catching my vague interest. “Eight years ago, around Diera down south, she came across a caravan, she didn’t know what it was at the time. Out of nowhere a bouncing-betty, you know the landshark looking things, it just, leaps right out the fucking ground at them an’ starts literally tearing apart their guards…” he took a pause and glancing down at his feet before he started again,

“So, Lil’ gets out her rifle and kills the thing, saving them. The leader of the caravan is really thankful, calls her a hero, so he leads her to the rearmost carriage, and pulls back a big cloth cover to reveal a bunch of people all in rags and manacles.” He stopped again, his mouth open hanging as he tried to say something, but couldn’t manage it the first few tries, “And he says to her: ‘these are the best of our stock, take your pick, without you we would never have survived.’…Then she pulls out her rifle and points it at them, telling them to free all the slaves, ‘else she would shoot. They didn’t. A firefight goes on for a few minuets, the rump of the guards and the head driver not being worth much in a fight, and she freed the slaves.”

He kept looking out into the road, with a hundred yards stare on his face. “One of the slaves was Venezuelan, though most of them were Latino apparently - from Nemex and Jalapa among others, and called her ‘El Libratador’ after a Venezuelan who freed Latin America from the Spanish,” he looked up at the sky, an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Imagine what that would do to a person, to have fought shoulder to shoulder with these people, however briefly, and then found they were doing such horrible things, and that you were protecting them while they were doing it,” he finished, his face pale as he looked at the sky, the bead of a tear lingering in his eye. Then it shifted to a sour look and he turned to me. “But I suppose you don’t care, do you? After all you seem to lack the comprehension of the vileness of it, for these people to have their freedom taken from them,” he accused making his disgust with me plain both in his tone and his expression.

“And what good is ‘freedom’?” I gave in response, looking plainly at him, making him take a step back. “After all it was the pursuit of ‘freedom’ that gave us this world of ruins. A Lofty principle of an old world that used these grand words and ideals to justify the rain of fire and radiation that they brought down in play of their self-satisfying goals. This world is the price of that freedom, despite how you wail that it is in absence of it,” I said quietly, looking out into the road as Rock levied his gaze on me his eyes rocking in their sockets, either from anger or fear. Who could tell?

“I had total freedom, it is you that diminished it, not anyone else here. So don’t stand there acting like you embody a tradition lost to the world,” standing up from the chair and brushing myself down slightly as Rock leered at my back. “Some things are left behind for a reason,” I let the conversation sit for a second almost feeling the heat of the quiet fury of the Quazi.

“In any case, I believe you are nearly done, so you can accompany me if you wish. Or can you state that you won’t drive off without me?” I questioned critically, somewhat hoping that he would let me go alone, though that would likely complicate matters later on in Verdant. He turned to me with a deep-set look of sour hatred, so often held on his face one would think it had frozen in that expression.

“Neither I nor Lil’ would harm these people as by leaving you uninhibited in your practices, you blonde-haired bilker,” he growled out, striding ahead of me, stamping hard on the ground like a child who was told to do a chore he didn’t want to. I smiled charmingly at him.

“Good alliteration, my lecturious lookout. Now shall we depart to the dressing district before we become so enamoured in our little chats that the sun slinks below that rotten sky above,” I replied smarmily, walking quickly past him, forcing him to have to jog to catch back up.

“Piss of you, poultice preaching prick,” he spat out grumpily having thought about his words. I chuckled at him in response, causing him to stew even more. The streets and alleyways were flooded by workers, amplified by those that streamed out from the backstreets, slamming and rushing against each other as the flows of those discharged and those commissioned surged against each other, their uniforms all unanimously caked and sodden in grease, grime and the other foulness of the refineries and factories that bulked the town of Olrick.

I led us along the thoroughfare to the main crossing on the east side, a tiny little square with a greasy clock stood in the middle ready to cry out the ensuing day, then turned inward into the city’s centre. Impossibly, the packed roads in the inner city somehow became ever more packed and compressed, the buildings pulling themselves up taller, the light fleeing higher away from the street. The grand factories sparked and crackled as the workers toiled and laboured inside, lit only by burning fumes and naked bulbs. The factory walls, like the rest of this grand settlement, were caked in kerosene and oil made of debris and other flotsam that had been dragged over, a quilted patchwork of bodged repairs and quick fixes made to prevent an even momentary lapse in production, making them look like Frankenstein structures. Despite the darkness, hanging floodlights, asleep to save power, were left wasted.

I then turned into a small alley on the left side of the lane, to the harshly supressed relief of Rock as he followed, wheezing slightly with the heavy air. We again came to a street of low-standing houses, all of them stalls set up for trade. But it was a much calmer street than the rest of the city, with an actual road, though only made from packed gravel unlike the paved streets of the true inner city. This was an area of fine trade, where the artisans of Olrick were endorsed to stay in their well made and supplied stalls, so as to supply the wealthy and any visitors. It was an attempt by the Assembly to make out the city as nicer than it was. A good tactic in concept really, but not truly effective, as you had to walk through the dirtier bits of the city to reach it.

Rock looked on astonished, glancing about as if he had walked into a mystical place. “Where are we?” he questioned in a quiet voice, almost as if a raised voice would shatter the vision before him.

“We are in the Artisans’ district. The shop we’re going to is the third down the street, come along,” his expression soured at the order and he grabbed me by the arm.

“How is it that this place is so… nice, and that bit back there so horrible?” he asked fiercely, as if he held me responsible for the sight.

I snatched my arm from his grip and answered, “A nation’s wealth always concentrates at its centre, it’s quite natural really. But here so does its power. This place has been besieged quite often so they have become quite zealous in their control of power, so they don’t like people getting too close and looking at them, when they used to come to sample the works of the artisans here,” I explained, walking forward as I spoke, with Rock following just behind. “So, this district arose. A great showing off of the splendour of the city, while also being a way to keep people away from their centre of power,” I finished as we came up to the stall. “Here we are,” I declared, gesturing to the shop, stopping Rock from leaping into his likely rant about ‘injustices’ or some other token cry they so often used, and walked into the shop, the slightly destabilised Quazi following after me.

It was modest, as were the rest of the stalls, but it was well made and well kept. The store clerk noticed us and began to walk over. He was a tallish man, very thin, with slicked back blonde hair, but he had a rather effeminate air about him. He was a Quazi, horned and taller than most, so either a deer or caribou, with tailor’s tape draped over his neck, hanging over a, rather bravely, white suit, with brown Oxfords whose bottoms were splashed grey with gravel dust.

“Hello, how are you my dear fellows, what can I get you today?” he asked with a smile, bending over slightly as he neared the edge of his stall, his large horns threatening to catch upon the roof. As he looked at me, he took on a mortified expression. “My dear sir, what are you wearing?!” he asked, aghast, referring to the prisoner rags that still adorned me.

“A dreadful set of attire that I am all too eager to replace and burn to ash,” I replied looking down at myself quickly, with a look of repulsion.

He smiled, and responded, “I couldn’t agree more sir.” He then led me over to a raised platform where he began to take my measurements, asking me what colours I wanted and what fabrics I preferred and certain fits and other details. Then he quickly set to work, leaving me with a set of three suits and some shoes and separate jackets. He then turned to Rock.

“And what will you be having sir?” the tailor asked pleasantly, causing Rock to give a start.

“O-oh, I-I’m not here for anything, it doesn’t really suit me,” Rock replied, caught off guard and stammering. Unabashed the tailor continued with a smile that made Rock quiver slightly.

“Oh, don’t say that - a man of your figure would cut a suit quite well. After all, just feel these muscles,” the tailor argued softly, coming up behind Rock and squeezing his arms, making Rock blush a deep red.

“I-I-uh-b-I…Okay,” he stammered out, obviously flustered. He then began measuring him, taking noticeably longer than he had with me, which progressively made the usually tanned man turn as red as a tomato at the tailor’s sultry glances. After about half an hour he stood there in a tawny brown corduroy double vented jacket, thin lapelled, with a cinnamon coloured, standing collared shirt with matching brown corduroy slacks, fitted into tall black boots. The tailor again regarded him with a sultry gaze.

“Yes, you are definitely my type,” he said with a pleasant smile on his face, once again prompting Rock to erupt into a deep blush.

“I’m sorry I’m not interested,” Rock replied, his voice fluttering slightly, an amusing sight, but the tailor waived him off.

“Don’t be concerned. You are good enough as eye candy,” he replied velvetly, causing Rock again to bristle.

“So, how much?” Rock breathed, tugging down on his jacket, attempting to regain his composure as he tried to take control of the conversation.

“For you, think of it as a gift,” he replied pleasantly, cocking his body at the hip, “for you,” he continued, turning to me, “fourty-two thousand Note, but since you bought so much, I’ll give you a discount. So, it comes to thirty-eight thousand,” he finished, smiling broadly. I handed him the money and nodded to him in thanks.

As we began walking out, he turned to me and asked quietly, “Oh, and may I ask who told you of me? I haven’t seen you before,” I regarded him pleasantly and responded.

“I heard about you from Ollivier up North, he was an old client of mine, spoke quite highly of you,” the tailor went slightly pale for a second, as if he had seen something foul in his periphery, but quickly regained his composure.

“Well, I’m glad he thinks of me that well,” he replied smilingly. I nodded to him and walked out of the stall, Rock having already returned to the street.

“Oh,” he called as we walked, “and if you ever need to talk, Rock, just ask for Sebastian down at one of the shopping districts. They’ll tell me,” he called out in a dulcet tone, smiling kindly.

“Thank you for the offer, I’ll keep it in mind,” Rock replied shortly, slightly abashed as we walked out of the district, straining his face as he hurried away walking slightly faster than normal.  “Tell no one of this,” Rock growled harshly at me as we walked, not turning to look at me. I grinned as I regarded him flatly.

“Now why would I do that? Good information is best saved till needed,” I replied sardonically, chuckling slightly. He then hovered his hand over his holstered pistol and cocked his head to me, a dark look on his face, nearly done with me. “Fine, fine. Now allon, punctuality has not gone out of fashion since the apocalypse,” I responded, slightly put out, but rushed him forward.

We returned to Victor’s just as it turned three O’clock, the sun beginning to hang close to the western buildings. As we approached, I noticed a person hanging around the front of the shop dressed in militia-esque garb. Upon getting close to them, Rock burst out in alarm.

"What happened to you, are you alright!?”

He was referring of course to the woman’s complexion. Her skin appeared rotten, or completely fallen away in places displaying plainly the fetid red and white muscles beneath. Her hair had all fallen out, and her pupils had covered the entirety of her eyes leaving them like black stones in her head, either side of a rotted off nose, a sent of gangrene and rot hanging about her. She immediately took on an insulted but expectant expression as if was a normal occurrence.

“It’s quite rude to say that Rock,” I broke in, the tall Quazi sending me a confused look, “after all, don’t you get upset when someone shouts about your own, unique attributes, in the street.” My remark made Rock pause for half a second before the meaning dawned on him and his face morphed into a mortified expression and he leapt into making apologies, attempting to explain himself, the woman taking on a pleasantly surprised expression. As Rock continued to abase himself, I meandered back into the shop to load up my clothes and funds into the car, when Lil’ and Victor walked out. Victor took on a concerned expression at seeing the meeting, or more specifically one part of it, and Lil’ looked pleased to see Rock, though looked at me with well contained contempt in front of the woman.

“Rock, you look nice, where did you get that?” Lil’ questioned, prompting Rock to blush faintly. Rubbing the back of his neck tentatively he responded, though with a slight quaver in his voice.

“Oh… well, I was looking at the clothes and I saw this nice piece that I liked and Azzy bought it for me, though probably in an attempt to buy me off to let him go,” I flicked my head back to fix him with a glare at his excuse, but he gave me a hard look from the edge of his gaze, and I stowed it away. Not only did he use that numb-brained nickname, he’d set the precedent I’d buy ‘gifts’ for these people.

“Well, I think it looks lovely on you!” Lil’ said cheerily, flustering Rock even further. As I was at the back of the shop, Victor walked up to my side.

He then leant down to me, keeping his gaze on the trio and asked, “Sebastian?” though obviously already knowing.

“Sebastian,” I confirmed, Victor nodding and chuckling slightly. Well, some fairness after all. Then the trio turned their attention to the woman who was at the front of the store, waiting patiently for them to finish their little pleasantries.

“So, miss, what can we help you with?” Lil’ questioned pushing her curiosity to the side, displaying some tact, which I didn’t quite attribute to her. The woman nodded slightly then spoke.

“I’m looking for where they sell supplies, I know that doesn’t really narrow it down much but I just want somewhere that sells most things, and will sell them to Remnants,” her voice was crackly as she spoke, like a chain-smoker was talking through an intercom, rusty and abrasive, but with a dignity and refinement woven into it.

Lil’ took on a thoughtful expression and then cautiously asked: “Yes, but what exactly, are, Remnants,” The woman looked at her with a deadpan expression not bothering to hide her exhaustion with the conversation.

“They are what she is,” I broke in, having loaded my clothes into the car and put on one of the suits, an emperor’s yellow chequered one, and walked over to where they were all congregated. “When the bombs dropped, many were exposed to lethal doses of radiation, but due to an apparently somewhat common mutation in people’s genes, instead of sub coming to it they just mutated. Some went mad, not entirely surprisingly, and became what we call crotes, or cryptids, after monsters from the old world. But a decent amount stayed sane, keeping their memories. Course anyone who saw them only remembered the ones that stormed and slaughtered settlements. Who haunted the nightmares of many. So, they attacked, and persecuted, as people tend to do,” I explained boredly before I looked to the woman and paused to see if she wanted to speak up, she kept quiet. I sat down on one of the crates and continued, watching the confused and somewhat begrudgingly impressed faces of the other three.

“Because of that most of the stable ones fled north, till they were out of reach of anyone who saw them as a threat. They build a settlement out of the blasted-out ruins of a bombed city, hoping the fallout would stave off any hunting parties or expeditions. They called it Catacombs. Eventually, as time went on people started to brave the trip and learned about the Remnants and told people they were friendly, and slowly, trust in them grew, though really only in the North. So, they began sending out delegates or letting people explore outside the city. But most don’t come this far down south,” the three turned to the woman, looking to confirm what I said.

Honestly, at least have some sense to not be so plain about your distrust. She nodded that it was correct, though looked slightly surprised herself.

When the woman nodded in agreement with what I said they all glanced back to me. “How do you know all that?” Lil’ asked incredulously as the other two matched her expression. I regarded her flatly and responded;

“I went their once a while ago, I travelled south after that, and now,” spreading out my arms like I had finished a magic trick in mock grandeur, “I’m here.”

“What, did you scam all of them too. With some magical snake oil that would turn them human again, repair their skin and make their hair grow back,” Lil’ demanded, her face going slightly red. I looked at her then looked down at the ground as I looked for the words.

“No, I was there for a different reason,” my voice taking a hollowness without my noticing. “I believe it was Griffon who was trying that wasn’t he?” I said, diverting the conversation, looking to the woman for affirmation, to which she nodded.

“Yeah, that was him, gave up after a while, people didn’t take too kindly too it. But, what can you do," the woman agreed, shrugging slightly. Lil’ composed herself slightly, her curiosity and anger at me still etched into her copper-blue eyes, caught off-guard at the mention that her accusation had actually occurred.

“Moving on, I don’t believe we got your name miss,” Lil’ asked, at this the woman straightened up, almost as if some old training in her kicked in.

“Emilia, Regina, Carter, a pleasure,” she answered highly offering her hand with the back of it facing up to be kissed initially then seemed to think and quickly turned it to the side for a normal handshake, which Lil’ seemed to miss.

“And it is shared Miss Carter,” Lil’ responded earnestly taking her hand and shaking it vigorously, Rock nodding in agreement.

“Charmed,” I called over, the woman nodding at me in agreement. I looked at her hands and noticed a signet ring on the left one, stacked with a wedding band. I was correct to assume she was high class then. That or a very lucky scavenger. I shall remember her just in case. Victor then took her over to the side, and eventually sent her off to the northern district of the city where he remembered a shop with a sign that read ‘Remnants Welcome’ on the door. She thanked him and walked north down the alleyways of Olrick.

After that, I got in the car along with the pair, and began to drive out of the workshop, both Lil’ and Rock waving fondly goodbye to Victor as the light of the city sporadically plinked into life, bathing the dirty streets with a warped mix of colours. Making the whole city look like a giant oil slick in water. The sun was now diving below the jagged and unordered, yet somehow subdued and defeated skyline of Olrick. They drove hurriedly out of the city, going as fast as possible in the still cluttered streets. As they left through the great walls of that city, we were again bombarded by the setting sun, its silky blood-red rays muzzled through the low hanging slums that surrounded the grand oil capital of the wasteland, the rough homes beginning to light up braziers and torches as it descended.

Leaving that great ‘empire of black gold, and black hearts’ as was the expression.

[1] Un grand jour de commerce, une journée d’opportunité encore plus grande. Meaning: A great day of commerce, a day of even greater opportunity’

[2] Honnêtement, comment avez-vous réussi? Meaning: Honestly, how did you ever succeed?

[aylinxc-s]

who: @coradeveraux where: oceania bookstore

"I am so sorry to interrupt you.. while you're browsing but I just had to ask," Aylin approached the brunette, a shy smile on her lips. "But are you Cora Deveraux?" Her eyes light up at the thought. It wasn't often that she got to meet a real-life celebrity, but this was so much better in her opinion. A literary celebrity. "You're honestly.. one of my favorite authors and I'm not just saying that, I promise. I've read all of your books, every single one. I love them, you're just so.. fantastic and I just had to say something."

Once the words finished tumbling out her mouth, Aylin regretted them slightly. "I'm so sorry, that was so intense of me."

[hydejive]

are you the same person as Hawkins's connection terminated person? are you connected? are they both in hell for stealing a boat to Oceania?

[Answer: I'm only legally allowed to answer some of these questions, so I'll go in order of what I can answer.]

[1. No, me and Found are not the same person. You may call me Lost for the time being.]

[2. Yes. We work in the same facility. Unfortunately.]

[3. .. / -.-. .- -. -. --- - / … .- -.-- / .-- …. . .-. . / - …. . -.-- / .- .-. . / -… ..- - / .. - .----. … / -. --- - / -.-. --- -. -. . -.-. - . -.. / - --- -….-]

[Your connection was interrupted. Try again later.]

[aviiarie]

dear @aviiarie ,

I’m not implying it’s their fault

but I rarely find someone from

Oceania and then we can’t even

talk at the same time because either

I’m awake and they’re sleeping

or I’m sleeping and they’re awake

why did my father have to come

to Australia to study? /j 🫥

My mother is Asian, so like

even going to her country takes

hours and I’m on the verge of death

It’s good that they let you out

early or else I would’ve been

doodling like you or finding a friend

I’m like in the IT department at

college and all of my friend are

doing medicine, so we’re like

absolutely not in the same boat

— 🌷

oh i feel you 😭😭😭 i do have a terrible sleep schedule though, so i usually am most active online late at night... it works in my favour sometimes when i want to talk to friends in other timezones HAHAHA

NO BUT IM ACTUALLY SO GLAD THEY LET US OUT EARLY because we are not allowed to talk to anyone during exams, and the dead silence (interrupted by the occasional cough) was killing me.

[healthwellnessrevolution0]

Stroke is a leading cause of death and disability worldwide. They occur when blood flow to the brain is interrupted, causing damage or death of brain cells. In this detailed article, we will explore the benefits of Noni fruit and discuss how it can help maintain our vascular health, particularly in preventing strokes. 1. Introduction to Noni Fruit: Noni fruit, scientifically known as Morinda citrifolia, is native to the tropical and subtropical regions of Asia, Oceania, and America. It is considered a superfood due to its richness in nutrients such as vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, and essential fatty acids. Noni fruit also has anti-inflammatory and immunostimulating properties. 2. Benefits of Noni Fruit for Vascular Health: Noni fruit has been studied for its beneficial effects on vascular health, particularly in the prevention of stroke. It contains active compounds such as iridoids, flavonoids, and xerones, which can help dilate blood vessels, reduce inflammation, and prevent the formation of blood clots, major risk factors for stroke. 3. Anti-inflammatory action: Chronic inflammation can contribute to many health problems, including cardiovascular disease. Noni fruit has demonstrated anti-inflammatory effects due to its high antioxidant content. These antioxidants help neutralize free radicals and reduce inflammation, which can protect vascular cells from damage and prevent strokes. 4. Antidepressant and antihypertensive effects: Depression and hypertension are risk factors for stroke. The fruit has been studied for its potential antidepressant and antihypertensive effects. Some research indicates that compounds found may help regulate mood and lower blood pressure, helping to prevent strokes. 5. Strengthen the immune system: Noni fruit is also known for its power to strengthen the immune system. A strong immune system is essential for vascular health because it helps prevent infections and reduce inflammation. By consuming noni regularly, you can strengthen your immune system and promote better overall health. Conclusion: Noni fruit is nature's treasure, offering many benefits for vascular health, including stroke prevention. Thanks to its anti-inflammatory properties, its ability to dilate blood vessels, its antidepressant and antihypertensive effects, as well as strengthening the immune system, fruit can be a valuable addition to a balanced diet. However, it is important to consult a healthcare professional before incorporating it into your diet, especially if you are taking medications or have pre-existing health conditions. Preserve your vascular health naturally by discovering the benefits of noni fruit.

[themarketinsights]

Fancy Yarn Market Resets Expectations, May See Boost in Revenue Cycle

Advance Market Analytics published a new research publication on “Global Fancy Yarn Market Insights, to 2028” with 232 pages and enriched with self-explained Tables and charts in presentable format. In the study, you will find new evolving Trends, Drivers, Restraints, Opportunities generated by targeting market-associated stakeholders. The growth of the Fancy Yarn market was mainly driven by the increasing R&D spending across the world.

Major players profiled in the study are:

Winning Textil (China), Rajvir Industries Limited (India), Jiangyin Huayi Yarn co., Ltd (China), Sharmanji Yarns Pvt. Ltd. (India), Loyal Textile Mills Ltd. (India), Kongkiat Textile Co Ltd (Japan), Sutlej Textiles and Industries Limited (India), Wuxi Tiantianrun Fancy Yarn Co., Ltd (China), Fatima Group Company (Pakistan), Shri Damodar Yarn Manufacturing Pvt. Ltd. (India)

Get Free Exclusive PDF Sample Copy of This Research @ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/sample-report/94488-global-fancy-yarn-market?utm_source=Benzinga&utm_medium=Vinay

Scope of the Report of Fancy Yarn

Fancy yarns are the yarns in which some deliberate decorative discontinuity or interruption is introduced, of either color or form, or of both color and form. This discontinuity is incorporated with the intention of producing an enhanced aesthetic effect. These yarns are mainly designed for their aesthetic appearance rather than performance. It has wide-ranging applications in apparel at all levels of the market. They are invariably used to create fashion fabrics. The materials used in the fancy yarn are cotton, nylon, silk, wool, polyester etc.

14th February 2019, Kongkiat Textile Co Ltd Thai Acrylic Fibre Co, Ltd (TAF) launched new concept of fancy yarns Radianza as an eco-friendly fiber using the gel-dyeing technology that uses very less natural resources and discharges less pollutants in nature.

The Global Fancy Yarn Market segments and Market Data Break Down are illuminated below:

by Type (Chenille Yarn, Gimp Yarn, Loop Yarn, Knop Yarn, Slub Yarn, Others), Application (Textile Industry, Knitting Industry, Home Furnishing, Decor Material, Others), Raw Material (Natural, Synthetic)

Market Opportunities:

Rising Demand for Stylish Clothing

Market Drivers:

High Value and High Margin Applications of Fancy Yarns

Increasing Modern Fashion Trends

Increased Disposable Income of the People in Developing Countries

Market Trend:

Trend of Variety of Colors in Fancy Yarns

What can be explored with the Fancy Yarn Market Study?

Gain Market Understanding

Identify Growth Opportunities

Analyze and Measure the Global Fancy Yarn Market by Identifying Investment across various Industry Verticals

Understand the Trends that will drive Future Changes in Fancy Yarn

Understand the Competitive Scenarios

Track Right Markets

Identify the Right Verticals

Region Included are: North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Oceania, South America, Middle East & Africa

Country Level Break-Up: United States, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Chile, South Africa, Nigeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Germany, United Kingdom (UK), the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Austria, Turkey, Russia, France, Poland, Israel, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, Singapore, India, Australia and New Zealand etc.

Have Any Questions Regarding Global Fancy Yarn Market Report, Ask Our Experts@ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/enquiry-before-buy/94488-global-fancy-yarn-market?utm_source=Benzinga&utm_medium=Vinay

Strategic Points Covered in Table of Content of Global Fancy Yarn Market:

Chapter 1: Introduction, market driving force product Objective of Study and Research Scope the Fancy Yarn market

Chapter 2: Exclusive Summary – the basic information of the Fancy Yarn Market.

Chapter 3: Displaying the Market Dynamics- Drivers, Trends and Challenges & Opportunities of the Fancy Yarn

Chapter 4: Presenting the Fancy Yarn Market Factor Analysis, Porters Five Forces, Supply/Value Chain, PESTEL analysis, Market Entropy, Patent/Trademark Analysis.

Chapter 5: Displaying the by Type, End User and Region/Country 2017-2022

Chapter 6: Evaluating the leading manufacturers of the Fancy Yarn market which consists of its Competitive Landscape, Peer Group Analysis, BCG Matrix & Company Profile

Chapter 7: To evaluate the market by segments, by countries and by Manufacturers/Company with revenue share and sales by key countries in these various regions (2023-2028)

Chapter 8 & 9: Displaying the Appendix, Methodology and Data Source

Finally, Fancy Yarn Market is a valuable source of guidance for individuals and companies.

Read Detailed Index of full Research Study at @ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/buy-now?format=1&report=94488?utm_source=Benzinga&utm_medium=Vinay

Thanks for reading this article; you can also get individual chapter wise section or region wise report version like North America, Middle East, Africa, Europe or LATAM, Southeast Asia.

Contact Us:

Craig Francis (PR & Marketing Manager)

AMA Research & Media LLP

Unit No. 429, Parsonage Road Edison, NJ

New Jersey USA – 08837

[packaging2]

Industrial Chemical Packaging Market Witness a Spike in Growth Pace Recent Improvements in Pricing Models: FMI

The industry is anticipated to grow steadily at a 4.0% CAGR until 2033. The revenue share of the industrial chemical packaging market is anticipated to increase from US$ 133.58 billion in 2023 to US$ 197.52 billion in 2033, according to FMI.

The expansion of international trade is likely to be a major driver of the industrial chemical packaging sector during the forecasted period. The expansion of international trade has been driven by a number of factors, including changing technology, industrial activity, governmental choices, increasing competition, new trade agreements, etc.

The governments of several affected countries have pushed the food industry’s players to increase production in order to avoid supply-side shocks, shortages, and interruptions in supply.

For More Insights on this Market, Get A Sample Report @ https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/sample/rep-gb-5234

 As a result, FMCG companies are requesting more industrial chemical packaging materials. For instance, Britannia Industries has requested that the Indian government permit the supply chain’s cross-state movement of raw materials and packaging materials.

Industrial packaging producers are adjusting to meet the demands of contemporary markets. All enterprises, big or small, must upgrade their production technology continuously to remain competitive in the market.

Modern leak detection equipment and sophisticated testing methods are created to ensure that the chemical packing solution complies with weight handling capacity and international safety standards.

Key Takeaways from Industrial Chemical Packaging Market

Intermediate bulk containers are the most widely used packaging format for safe and easy transportation of industrial chemicals, as these containers are versatile, pallet mounted cost-effective. IBC’s currently account for more than 64% of industrial chemical packaging solutions sold worldwide.

Backed by the presence of the renowned pharmaceutical companies in the country, the U.K. is the largest consumer of chemical packaging solutions.  The U.K. market is anticipated to offer incremental opportunities worth US$ 5.40 billion over the next decade.

Recyclable and re-usable features make plastic preferred material in the industrial chemical packaging market. It is expected to account for over 40% of packaging solutions produced over the forecast period.

After witnessing slight decline in FQ-20, Germany market is expected to register a y-o-y growth of almost 4.8 % in the year 2022.

Specialty chemicals segment will offer incremental opportunity of US$ 197.52 Bn between 2023 and 2033.

Are you looking for customized information related to the latest trends, drivers, and challenges? @ https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/customization-available/rep-gb-5234

Key players

ProAmpac

Tote Systems International, LP

US Display Group

Myers Industries, Inc.

Assmann Corp. of America

DENIOS Ltd.

Hoover CS

Segezha Group GmbH

CLA Containers

Greif, Inc.

RIKUTEC Group

Müller Group

Speak to Our Analyst @ https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/ask-the-analyst/rep-gb-5234

Key segments

By Packaging Format:

Intermediate bulk containers (IBCs)

Flexitanks

Drums

Pails & Jerry Cans

Bags & Sacks

Others (Bins & Liners, etc.)

By Material:

Metal

Plastic

Paper & Paperboard

By Chemical Type:

Specialty Chemicals

Commodity Chemicals

By Region:

North America

Latin America

Europe

South Asia

East Asia

Oceania

[aftersamu]

– CLOSE AS STRANGERS PAIRING: musician! suna rintarou x gn!reader GENRE: angst(y), long distance relationship

A/N: this is based off this head-canon which basically compares suna rintarou to calum hood from 5sos, like... they're the same person, same [astro] planets. plus, this is based off the song, close as strangers.

͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏

it's been six weeks since suna left home, touring around the world as the opening act while his band slowly grows in success everyday.

he stares at the messages that reads: delivered, unsure of when he'll get a response from you. the band has just finished their set, which meant his day – or night – was practically over with.

suna wishes he wasn't thousands of miles away from you, leaving you to spend nights alone when he should be there next to you and wrapped in your arms.

everyday that passes, every night spent with missed calls and dial tones only splits the two of you even further apart. with shaky hands, he presses the call button, bringing the device up to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

the longer suna waits, the more scared he gets, but when the ringing stops so does his panic. "hey," your voice appears through the speaker, static. "how was it?"

"hi," he breaths out, "it was good. it's insane seeing so many people in the crowd though," suna says – praying that the line wouldn't cut out.

"oh yeah? it's a lot different than playing in front of twelve people in a hotel lobby isn't it?" you tease, fiddling with the ends of your shirt, doing your best to ignore the obvious drift between you two.

"well, it doesn't feel the same." suna says, "i'll take that hotel lobby over this any day if it means i get to see you in the crowd." feeling a lump begin to grow in his throat, attempting to clear it away, he continues on. "although the lighting is better here,"

"i bet!" a sad laugh escapes, "hey, don't forget to send me videos and pictures of you on stage alright? i'd rather see them come from you, instead of some fan on twitter."

of course it pained a little to not be near suna, but he was living his dream! he was doing what he wanted, travelling around the world with three of his best friends and performing in front of crowds of thousands.

sure it worries you sometimes, him being surrounded by people prettier, funnier, closer. or even how you've started to feel like someone who keeps dragging him down, that you're someone stopping him from reaching full potential, whatever that is.

"so um, when are you guys coming back over here for a show?" you ask, interrupting yourself from those thoughts, "i would buy tickets, but they're all sold out."

"i think we'll be back in around... six months?"

sucking in a breath, "wow, six months?" you repeat, the itching feeling in the back of your head resurfacing. would the relationship even last that much longer?

suna knew what you meant. he wasn't a mind-reader, and the constant interrupted connection didn't help either, but he could tell just by the deflation of your voice that this wasn't good.

"yeah... we have to finish the north american leg of the tour before we move on to europe and oceania." he explains, "but hey! i'll be back before you know it, and we can always find time to call for hours on end."

"no, no, yeah, of course." you say, "just tell me when you're free and have time, we can call then."

"yeah–" cut off when the door burst open, revealing the guitarist of the band along with the rest of the members behind him. "hey, give me a second," suna says, holding his phone to his chest. "what do you guys want?"

"we're going to go prank the band," semi informs holding up empty aluminium trays and whipped cream cans. "they're about to play teenage dirtbag in a couple minutes, so come on!"

on your end, hearing muffled voices, "alright– just give me a minute alright? i'll be right out," suna waves off, bringing his phone back up to his ear. "hey, i'm sorry, but i have to go."

"that's fine," you brush off, "i have to meet a friend in a few anyways."

"look, i'll call you later alright?"

"yeah, i'll see you." you say, hanging up the phone before another word can be said. tossing your device somewhere on your bed before burying yourself in the mountains of pillows and blankets.

suna stares at the disconnected line, putting aside whatever emotions dare to linger before joining his band outside with a forced smile. listening to semi go on about how they'll show them what the "emo's" can do.

of course, suna would rather be with you right now, and all he can hope for is that you'd wait for him too.

interaction appreciated! PT 2: story of another us

[utterlyinevitable]

I wish you would write a fic where Ethan accidentally gets high with Naveen and MC catches them.

Ask for something weird and you shall receive! This is more hc than fic, hope you don’t mind xxx

@openheartheadcanons: crack, ethan x f!mc, naveen

Grass at the River

Ethan had gotten to Naveen’s cabin early in the morning, as if it was a work day. The retired diagnostician had just gotten back from a 2 month long trip in Oceania. A trip Ethan begged him not to take - especially so soon (8 months, in truth) after recovering from an accident. 

Naveen told Ethan not to worry. He’s fine and managing. But Ethan had none of that. Back then he took a week off to take care of his friend. Now he’ll be there to assess his second father-figure and rush him back to Edenbrook if needed. 

Well, Naveen is back and wouldn’t dare argue. He loves having his family around. 

As Naveen was unpacking in his room, Ethan was tidying up the kitchen and living space that’s sat idle all these weeks. Unused, and yet there were fresh baked goods wrapped up and sitting on the counter. 

Ethan shakes his head at the old man’s sweet tooth and polishes one off. 

Oh, Darling Ethan went back for seconds, really eating something he shouldn’t have. 

“When did you have time to bake?” Ethan asks, interrupting Naveen in his motions. 

Naveen looks up from the drawer he was rifling through, “What’s that?”  

Ethan shows him a half-eaten cookie. 

“Oh, my boy...” 

Naveen stops what he’s doing and ushers Ethan into the living room. 

“How many have you eaten?” he asks, his dark eyes gleaming and thick brows pulling together. Naveen looked both amused and concerned.  

“Two,” Ethan replies, befuddled beyond belief as he’s led to the couch. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Naveen motions for him to sit. In any other circumstance Ethan would argue, be defensive and defiant. Not at this moment, the softness in the old man’s face has him doing as he’s told. 

“Those aren’t just any cookies,” Naveen informs.  

A world of emotions pass over Ethan’s features as the words settle in. Surely they’re cookies - they’re edible - he hasn’t choked or had any sort of reaction at the moment. Ethan’s mind travels to fancy soap.. but why on earth would there be soap wrapped in plastic in the kitchen? 

Naveen can’t help but bite back the smile threatening to creep up as he observes his friend’s face contorting. 

Then Ethan goes pale. 

Ah. 

“Why do you have these?” he holds the cookie up still in his hand, azure stare boring into Naveen. 

“Pain management,” he says. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s legal now. And frankly, my friend, you could really loosen up. It’s natural.” 

“It’s drugs.” 

“It’s herbal and it works.” 

Naveen leaves for a moment then returns with a large glass of water and a book to read. Ethan sits straight as a board and awaits whatever to happen. Impatiently waits for it all to be over. 

Time ticks by and Ethan can hear every second passing on that old coocoo clock. 

An hour later, Naveen meets Becca at the door. She took a half day at work to meet two of her favorite minds for a late lunch. 

Standing on the porch, his face says it all. 

“What happened?” she asks. 

Naveen’s smile grows and he whispers, “Someone got his hand stuck in the cookie door.” 

“No!” she shrieks.

Naveen nods. 

Becca can’t help but chuckle to herself. It was only a matter of time before Ethan found out about this little secret. Truthfully, no one expected him to find out first hand. 

She goes to Ethan - brushes hair off his forehead. He’s leaning against the cushion now, back still the picture of terse posture. His eyes are closed and she sees he’s hating every minute of this. 

“Aw, baby,” she coos. “You okay?” 

His eyes open slightly, somewhere between hooded and stink-eye. “Moderately.” 

She’s smiling broadly now. “Can’t believe you got high without me,” she chides playfully.  

Later he’ll grill her about what she means and how she knows about this little remedy. But for now her touch is soothing. So he’ll pull her onto the couch, lean in so his head’s on her shoulder, and listen to them chatter until he feels right enough to move. 

Then he’ll seriously consider throttling them both.  

____________________________

a/n: this is certainly a thing that happened LOL idk what doctor uptight has against weed but ok u do u E

> complete masterlist <

Perma:

@lucy-268  @thegreentwin  @queencarb  @danijimenezv  @starrystarrytrouble   @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07  @mercury84choices  @schnitzelbutterfingers  @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15  @mvalentine  @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine   @withbeautyandrage  @forallthatitsworth   @stateofgracious  @missmiimiie  @uneravine   @iemcpbchoices  @sophxwithers  @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter  @kachrisberry  @aishwarya26 @rosebudde @gryffindordaughterofathena

Ethan:

@udishaman  @binny1985  @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices  @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy  @stygianflood   @openheartthot @senseofduties  @tsrookie  @kalogh @aworldoffandoms  @takemyopenheart  @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111   @anntoldst0ries  @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

[writingwithcolor]

Cultural Christianity, Christian Appropriation, and Derailment

Periodically, I discuss the concept of cultural Christianity, the dangers of authors mucking with folklore that is not theirs, and what you have to guard against when you’re a part of a culturally Christian society.

And every time I do, like clockwork, Christians come in and say “but what about [non-Christian nation appropriating Christianity], hmmmmm????? That’s just as bad!”

So let’s talk about all of it.

Cultural Christianity

For starters: What is cultural Christianity?

Cultural Christianity is the fact the Western calendar is primarily built around two things: farming, and Christianity

Our dedicated time off that is mostly guaranteed to all workers are Christian holidays. Easter, Christmas, Good Friday. The time between Christmas and New Year is also prone to being off and this also in some dominions has Christian events.

And yes, I know that most of these holidays actually have pagan roots. Christianity co-opted them and thoroughly Christianized them, to the point their re-paganization only really started in the 1800s… by people who were also culturally Christian, and often wrote whole books on Christianity on top of their neo-pagan beliefs.

It’s how Christmas is considered a “neutral, secular” holiday, when it’s celebrating the birth of Christ. It’s how the concept of “other religions” exist, let alone the fact they have to ask for time off for their own holidays that count against their personal vacation time, when Christians often don’t have to do that. It’s how you see more churches than mosques or synagogues in the West by a very large factor.

There are very few places in the West that are not, on some level, culturally Christian. Some very insular communities might be able to escape a lot of the trappings of Christianity, but still. The government mandated days off are mostly Christian things. 

Cultural Christianity means everyone who was raised in a culturally Christian society has a Christian lens. They are aware of Christianity, its holidays, its general story, its values. 

This translates to them having to unlearn all of this and learn a whole new framework when they begin researching other folklore (Native religions, in my case, but this also applies to other religions such as Judaism and Islam) cause other folklore/religions do not have the same holidays, values, or even relationship to the deity in question.

Christian Appropriation

So in a non-Christian society, it is possible to appropriate Christianity. Because the same factors that have Christians appropriate everything else in the West are at play with a different dominant religion.

This mostly shows up in Japanese media. Japan has Shinto/Buddhism as a dominant religion, and you’ll often hear anime or manga artists say they simply picked Christian imagery because it looks cool.

And I agree this is disrespectful! It is really not fun to watch sacred imagery of your beliefs be used because “it looks cool” and I would love it if all appropriation of others’ beliefs ended.

But that often isn’t the focus of the posts getting these comments.

Derailment

This is twofold.

1- Very few places where Christianity isn’t the dominant religion exist.

Because Christian nations colonized most of the planet, there are a lot more culturally Christian places than you probably want to admit, if you’re the kind of person who pulls “but what about the appropriation.”. This includes a lot of Africa, a lot of Southeast Asia, a lot of Oceania, a lot of South America, basically all of North America, and basically all of Europe. 

You might disagree with how they practice Christianity, but they are still Christian. This means they are culturally Christian. Just not your culturally Christian.

But, as I mentioned in the previous section, appropriation can happen. It just doesn’t happen much in the English speaking world, and I am speaking to the English speaking world. Specifically, the Western English speaking world, which is very much culturally Christian.

The places where Christianity isn’t the dominant religion, however, is mostly composed of non-white people, specifically Arab, South Asian, and East Asian. So these “but what about where Christianity is appropriated” often end up sounding like “why aren’t you persecuting people of colour”, which sounds like trying to justify racism against people over there to me.

2- You are trying to say you are as much of a victim as us, when you are not

If you live in the West, you are culturally Christian unless you have grown up very deeply entrenched in a non-Christian community.

You have grown up with a wide, wide, wide variety of Christian stories, Christian based stories, Christian values/worldviews-as-default told to you your whole life. Some of it has been terrible, some of it you disagree with, but by and large, every story has some infusion of Christianity to it. Some of the most popular fictional texts are deeply religious things, like the Chronicles of Narnia.

You have not had your religion forbidden from being practiced, to you personally.

You have only seen true appropriation in very recent times, because of the influx of non-Western media being imported.

You have not had your sacred places constantly, consistently infringed upon and destroyed for reasons like “an observatory” or “a pipeline” or “a dam” or “a mine”.

You may have dealt with misunderstandings and miscommunications but you have rarely had somebody fundamentally misunderstand what Christianity is (Jesus as lord and saviour, died for our sins, we should try to live a more godly life and a good life to get into Heaven and get eternal happiness).

Native people have not had any of those luxuries, and it has mostly been culturally Christian people who have taken what is ours and turned it into what they wanted it to be. 

We have Christian pagans (paganism was founded and codified in the Victorian era, so no, it’s not “ancient wisdom” but more Victorians—who were definitely culturally Christian—interpreting everything to prove Christianity as more universal than it was*) peddle dream catchers and calling themselves medicine people and burning sage to the point it’s endangered, all trying to claim they’re “following Native practices” when they’re not.

So when I’m speaking to somebody in the Western world, 95% of the time I will be speaking to somebody culturally Christian. 

*When you start to track the “studied ancient mysteries” things, you either find types like the Theosophical Society that wildly appropriated Hinduism and Buddhism to fit their own ends and often put in messiah figures into them to show how there’s a Christ everywhere on the planet, or you start to dive into people who took Christianized recordings of folklore who may or may not have sipped some “older religions are better for noble savages reason” juice.

It’s very often racist and pulling from records written down by missionaries who had a vested interest in modifying the folklore in question, or from people who’d already been Christianized, so its validity is questionable.

Beginning to Unlearn

If you want to learn more about cultural Christianity and how to be more respectful of non-Christian belief systems, take a look at the this post and the folklore tag in general. Those are great starting places for you to do deeper research into whatever marginalized belief you’re looking to use.

I’d also suggest earnestly learning about other belief structures’ customs, challenging your assumptions of what is neutral and universal and the proper way of doing things. You might find a lot of surprising things that you weren’t expecting, even just looking at Abrahamic religions.

In the end

When I’m speaking to somebody who wants to use Native folklore, I’m going to assume they’re culturally Christian and educate them accordingly.

I am having a conversation to Christians about the appropriation of Native culture and how not to do that.

I am not going to suddenly change topics to make Christians comfortable by proving that I’m a champion for them, because frankly, they shouldn’t be dangling respecting Natives if only they interrupt themselves to prove they’re properly educated on Christian issues. Because that demand is once again centring Christianity above Native people.

I am talking about Native issues, not Christian issues.

I do not accept derailments that are thinly veiled racism or persecution complexes based off “what if”s that have not actually happened in the West. I acknowledge they happen elsewhere, and that’s tragic. I am not the person to talk about those details. I’d rather pass the mic to Christians in the area and let them speak. They are not Western Christians’ shields to use as they will. They have a voice, as well.

I am not going to coddle people who feel that Christian values are diminishing from society because we need room for more than just Christian values and Christianity does not have a monopoly on being a good person.

I am talking about Christians appropriating Native American beliefs.

And if that makes you uncomfortable, to hear Western Christians have protection, insert their own dogma into too much, and have unlearning to do—without being able to tack on a story about how no, really, you’re a victim in the West—then you have more unlearning to do. I’ve given places to start learning above.

We are talking about Native issues right now.

And I will not stop calling Christians out for their religious-based colonialism.

~ Lesya

[hetaliashitpostingftw]

HETALIA OFFICE MASTERPOST

Lol you know The Office? Its good but what if it was like,,, H e t a l i a?

ALLIES

America: Baaaaasically Michael from The Office. He likes leading and cares about the team, but can be a little... out of hand... sometimes. Canada: He sits in the corner and no one knows he’s there, but he’s always pulling his weight in projects. China: Always calling for tech support. Always. It annoys the heck out of whomever’s sitting next to him. France: Is the one who “accidentally” sends an email around to the people at the office which has “inappropriate” content.  England: Getting up in arms because either America’s being incompetent or he’s fed up with France’s nonsense. Russia: “It’d be a shame if something were to happen, da?” (he doesn’t work well with other people, too many HR complaints).

AXIS

Germany: He isn’t the boss but he is the annoying backseat driver who isn’t even second in command. Italy: “Lets go to a ✨𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓✨ after all this guys and someone else can pay!!!11!!” Japan: Forgets about the work and is watching anime with his screens turned away from everyone else.

BALTICS

Estonia: Guess who’s 𝓣𝓮𝓬𝓱 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 👁️ 👄 👁️ Lithuania: "Okay you want me to do that? I’ll do it just dont fire me pls dont” Latvia:"Hey boss what about the fact that you’re doing it wrong?”

EASTERN EUROPE

Romania: Actually does the work but doesn’t tell anyone when he’s done so he can sneak off and do whatever Bulgaria: Microsoft paint obsessed Ukraine: Cares for everyone like the epic mom friend she is Belarus: She doesn’t work there. She’s just there. And so far no one’s had balls enough to tell her to go.

MEDITERRANEAN EUROPE

Spain: "Hey guys I know you didn’t ask but ill make you all lunch! It’s going to be pasta! For the fifteenth day in a row!” Romano: RAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORKRAGEWORK- Greece: That one person with the “hang in there bby” poster as well as countless cat photos in frames. He also does his work but he’s real quiet about it. Turkey: Likes to hang out by the water cooler and gossip. Cyprus: Best friends with Greece but works surprisingly well with Bulgaria (or, he does, after an incident of him stealing his yogurt). Vatican City: Keeps a bible with him but follows most things he’s told to do. Monaco: She’s a seceratary but only because she’s able to get out of more work that way.

NORDIC EUROPE

Denmark: Keeps a little box of “creativity legos” on his desk which he plays with. He works in Human Resources and loves it. Sweden: Takes orders for the company’s product and is very organized. Keeps a little picture of his family on his desk which he’ll talk to anyone about. Finland: Has his headphones on all the time and sCrEams at anyone who dare interrupt his work. He also coordinates all of the holidays around the office, as well as parties. Norway: He has a thing for the cute guy in HR and keeps trying to meet him “causally” over by the water cooler. Has a plasma ball on his desk because it looks cool. Iceland: His brother got him an unpaid internship (which he hates) and so he spends a lot of time complaining and texting Norway angry gifs while he goes and hangs out with others his age in the breakroom.

LOW COUNTRIES

Belgium: Brings in cookies for everyone every Monday.  Netherlands: Works with Sweden and the two of them have desks next to each other. He helps Sweden when he’s having a prank war with Denmark. Luxembourg: Some higher-up executive who comes down every once in a while to flaunt his awesome-ness and dole out orders.

CENTRAL EUROPE

Austria: Plays classical music off his computer but without earbuds b/c he doesn’t know how. He’s low-key annoying but doesn’t know it. Slovakia: Has the coolest mousepad ever. He also contributes a substantial amount to most meetings. Czechia: Set her space up to be the neatest in the office. She’s one of the more successful members. Hungary: Made a pinterest board of house ideas in her spare time which she makes Austria look at. She doesn’t really care about the work, she’s just there. Switzerland: Financials. He also calls home at 12pm every day to check in on his sister and make sure everything’s okay.  Poland: Decorated the fuck out of his cubicle. Prussia: Has a whole collection of weird-ass ties which he switches. Some say he’s never worn the same one twice!

ASIA

Hong Kong: Also interning, but he doesn’t hate it and takes it instead as an opportunity to take photos of people and make them either cursed or into memes. Macau: Is the second-in-command in the office and basically controls everything since america isn’t great at it. South Korea: Water cooler? He likes to hang out with Turkey. Thailand: Keeps a cool and ornate whiteboard which he likes to take notes on. Vietnam: “What do you mean I have to work with someone else?!?!?!” Taiwan: She works under Denmark in human resources and often has to resolve conflicts. India: Sometimes invites Vietnam to play chess with him online on their monitors.

AFRICA

Egypt: Stole some of Denmark’s legos without his knowledge so he could build too. He’s pretty bored even though he does everything. Seychelles: Sits by the window and doesn’t get her work done since she’s distracted. Cameroon: Playing pranks on Australia when he gets bored, mostly after he’s finished his work.

OCEANIA + CARIBBEAN

Australia: “OY MATE SO YA WANT TO FOIGHT??!!” (he’s on for that prank war) New Zealand: Sits next to Cyprus and sometimes falls asleep, but Cyprus thinks he’s *kinda* cute and doesn’t wake him. Other than that, he’s really good at running meetings. Cuba: Brings fancy chocolates or other things which he takes out to share with special people on special occasions. He’s pretty nonchalant but comes off as intimidating for some.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ain’t Sayin’ She’s a Gold Digger: Part 1

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Negan x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: Sugar baby relationship, swearing

Word Count: 2,298

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Livid didn’t even begin to describe your mood as you walked out of the upscale bar you worked at for the past three years until 30 seconds prior. And the reason you were fired was absolute bullshit. You had been called in on your day off to cover someones shift, only to be told that it was your shift that you were a no call no show for, that was scheduled last minute, and that you weren’t told about by the manager that had scheduled you, who had been out to get you since your very first shift. You growled and headed toward the subway as you pulled out your cell to call your best friend slash landlord slash roommate to vent. 

“Dana Gold, can…”

“That fucking bitch fired me!” You interrupted with a screech. “How the fuck is she gunna call me in on my day off and tell me she fucking scheduled me…”

“(Y/N)!” She said a little loudly, making you stop your rant before you even got into it. “Can I call you back? I’m with a client, and you are on speaker.”

“Oh, shit.” You gasped as you stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change. “Sorry.”

“I’ll call you back.” She repeated before she simply hung up the phone on you. You shook your head and crossed the road with the other busy, impatient New Yorkers and wide eyed, lost tourists, and headed down the stairs to the subway. You got in a short line behind a woman with an Hermes bag you envied that was worth at least five times your rent, when your phone started ringing in your hand.

“Well that was quick.” You said as you pulled out your metro card.

“Come down to my office.” Dana nearly demanded just as you swiped your card for the train headed up toward the Upper West Side. “Let’s… have lunch.”

“You really had to decide that shit after I swipe my metro card, brat?” You asked as you turned away from the platform and headed toward the exit since her office was only a few blocks away from your old job.

“I’ll pay you for the swipe.” She dismissed. “Just get here, I’m hungry.”

“Bitch, I’m coming.” You laughed as you headed up the stairs and hung up your phone. You moved a little quicker through the throngs of people, briefly wondering why you were still living in New York like you did everyday. It was a one hundred and eighty degree difference from your small home towns, and it had once offered you so much promise in life, but it also chewed you up and spit you out like it did most people who had dreams of grandeur. But you had learned that that was the nature of the beast that was New York City. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Jackie, Dana’s assistant said with a smile as you stepped out of the elevator in front of her desk in the decent sized, and adorably decorated office in Midtown. “Ms. Gold said to send you right in.”

“Thanks Jackie.” You said with a smile as you grabbed a Hershey’s kiss out of the heart shaped bowl on your way past. “Yo, can I sue this bitch?” You asked as you walked through Dana’s office door, only to stop the slightest bit when you saw an older gentleman in one of the two chairs in front of her desk. “Oh. Wait, Jackie said to come in…?”

“Have a seat, (Y/N).” Your friend said with a smile as she gestured to the other chair.

“I take it we’re not doing lunch.” You breathed as you loosened the white tie of your otherwise all black uniform.

“This is Mr. Morgan.” She continued with a smile as she gestured to the man sitting beside you. “He’s come in a few times the past couple weeks to look for someone to accompany him on a cruise overseas next week for two weeks or so. But none of my girls have been up to his standards…”

“I’m looking for someone that can hold a polite conversation, and who can be a respectable in formal settings.” He chimed in as he searched your eyes. “But isn’t afraid to speak their mind at the same time. Most of the girls I’ve met though Dana are all…”

“Boring.” You finished for him with a smirk as you crossed your legs and sat back in your chair. “Conceited, self involved, gold diggers that will say anything they think you want them to so that they can keep themselves in your good graces, and occasionally suck your dick so you open your bank account as far as possible.” Mr. Morgan smirked and looked over at Dana with a small nod.

“I like her.”

“She’s a real peach alright.” 

“I try.” You said with a shrug.

“Dana says you’ve never been a Sugar Baby before?”

“Never had an interest to.” You told him with a shrug as he finally sat back in his seat, and let himself get comfortable. “I mean don’t get me wrong, if this is your cup of tea, then power to you. I hope you have fun with whomever you pick. But I don’t think I have the temperament to be one.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I managed to get myself thrown out of fucking Juilliard.” You laughed with a shake of your head. “For… well I was technically drinking underage in Central Park on the weekend with some people I worked with at a catering gig I had at the time and almost got busted by the cops for being way to fucking drunk in public. But the asshole didn’t know I ran track in high school so I got away before I could get arrested. But my roommate ratted me out, so I broke her lucky violin bow before her showcase because she was a bitch, and cussed out the disciplinary committee for being mentally incapable of understanding that at twenty years old, I have the God given right to party like a mother fucking rockstar. ”

“I’ll take her.”

“Oh, I’m for sale now.” You teased as he pulled out his wallet from his inside jacket pocket.

“I’m offering an all expenses paid two week long cruise to England, Scotland, and Ireland, and possibly a continuation of the trip overseas after that, depending on how we get along and how my business venture goes plus five thousand dollars cash per week you are with me. After that, we can reconvene and discuss something long term…”

“Wait, you’re actually serious right now?” You asked as you looked at the actual metal credit card he was holding out for you. “You wanna hire me, someone you don’t even know, to go with you for two weeks, possibly more in a foreign country.”

“I want to gift you two weeks in Europe, yes.” He said with a nod, which made you reach out and take his credit card so he wasn’t holding it out anymore.

“Mr. Morgan…”

“It’s Jeffrey.” He interrupted as he put his wallet back and sat back in his chair. “Or Jeff. I’m not picky. And I’ve gotten enough information from Ms. Gold to know that you will be a breath of fresh air that I need in my life right now. I also trust her enough through years of working with her that I know she won’t steer me the wrong way. Her girls are great for dates when I’m bored. But you are someone that I think would be much more entertaining to be around for two weeks.”

“OK.” You said as you looked over at Dana, who had been trying to get you to join her ranks for years because you weren’t a typical Sugar Baby. “Are you sure about this?” You asked once more as you looked at Jeff again.

“I wouldn’t still be sitting here still if I wasn’t.” With a small nod, you sighed and looked at the credit card in your hand.

“Alright. So what’s this for?”

“A new wardrobe and the necessary luggage.” He said as he pulled out his sunglasses and stood up to leave. “Prepare for a month at least. Salon, jewelry, manicure, pedicure, lingerie, makeup… There’s no spending limit on that card…”

“I’ll go with her personally.” Dana said with a smile as she got to her feet and walked around her desk to shake Jeff’s hand. “And I’ll get her personal information to your assistant by end of day today so she can arrange transport and the fine tuning details, Mr. Morgan.”

“Ms. Gold.” He said back with a slight bow of his head. “Pleasure as always. And I look forward to spending time with you, (Y/N).”

“You’re not alone there, darlin.”

——

“OK, how is this even real?” You asked as you stood with your back to Dana so she could zip up the hundredth dress you had tried on that day. 

“Are you even listening to me?” She laughed as she did the tiny snap at the top and took a step back.

“Yes, be on my best behavior. I get it.” You said as you looked at the fitted, knee length, mermaid style, purple floral Dolce and Gabbana dress in the mirror. “Shit, this thing could pay my rent for three months and then some.”

“I know.” She laughed as she looked at the dress that looked absolutely perfect on you and nodded her head. “But you need to keep your feet on the ground for me here.”

“OK, feet are on the ground.” You sighed as you turned away from the mirror to look at her. “So you were saying… his wife left?”

“Yes, his wife left him for a younger man about five or six years ago.” You nodded your head and turned around to point at the zipper as she continued to tell you her client’s back story, and continue to teach you how to be a proper sugar baby. “So he’s looking for complete and total honesty and exclusivity. Which is a general consensus in the business. But the difference with Mr. Morgan is he’s…” She looked up at you in the mirror as you stepped out of that dress and into a floor length jungle print dress that you had fallen in love with in Vogue and just had to try on. “OK, I’m just gunna say it. He’s looking to find someone to date without dating them.”

“OK, what does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with.” She sighed as she turned you around to face her. “He’s wanted me to find someone that he can get along with, that he eventually wants to put up in a place, and be with most nights out of the week. But there’s a catch…”

“Ooook…” You said nervously as you started to nervously fidget with the material of the dress.

“Mr. Morgan owns the Norwegian, the Oceania, and the Regent Seven Seas cruise lines, and a large handful of hotels around the world. He’s constantly traveling, which is why he came to me to find companionship. It started as just dates but the last few months, it’s been turning more toward long term. He wants someone permanent…”

“Ok, wait, Dana.” You said as you started to catch up to what she was saying. “Wait, hold on.”

“I know.”

“Dana… wait, are you like kicking me out? Hold on, wait I’m so confused.”

“OK, no. It’s not like that.” She said as she took a step toward you and gently grabbed your wrists. “Look, I love you with all my heart. I love being your best friend, and I love having you as my roommate. I’m not mad at you and I’m not trying to break our friendship up. But I am trying to tell you you need to get out there and enjoy life. Because we both know you complain all the damn time about being lonely and not getting to do anything fun because your always so broke. Sweetie, you can’t go living life playing piano at piano bars for tips for the rest of your life, and working at the God awful bar that I am actually grateful you got fired from. And I’ve had you on my mind for months every time Jeffrey came in because every time he’s described his perfect date, it’s always been like he was describing you.”

“Which is why you’ve been bringing up me being a Sugar Baby more often than you normally do.” She nodded her head and smiled softly as she reached up and shifted the shoulder strap the slightest bit.

“And that’s why today was perfectly timed. I know you’ll like him as a person.” She wrapped up as she searched your eyes. “And I know that out of everyone I know that I could set him up with, you would appreciate him as a person, and not just as a Sugar Daddy. And I think both of you deserve that.” You sighed loudly which turned into a groan as you looked up at the ceiling in your dressing room.

“I hate you.” You grumbled with a smile as you looked down your nose at her. “And you better not put your nasty ass quinoa salad on my fridge shelf when I’m gone.”

“Listen here, it’s my damn apartment.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” You barked through a laugh as you took off the jungle animal print dress and added it to the ‘yes’ pile so you could get dressed to go to the next store. “I pay good money for that shelf.”

“And I pay good money for that quinoa.”

Part 2

[imagining-supernatural]

The MET Date

Part 20 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  You and Seb have a date. Like a date-date!!

Word Count: 2,258

“I’ve lived here for over a month, you know,” you pointed out on Saturday morning.

Sean pulled to a stop at a red light and tossed you a confused look in the rear view window. “Yeah. I’ve been driving you for over a month.”

“And you’ve been living in my apartment,” Seb pointed out. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It means,” you said, “That I know New York pretty well.”

“Ah.” Sebastian settled back into the seat. “You think you know where we’re going.”

From the front seat, Sean laughed, making you glare at him. “You never pay attention to where we are. I could kidnap you and you wouldn’t know until we passed a Welcome to New Jersey sign.”

“So if you kidnap me, you’ll head towards Jersey. Seb, take notes so you can tell the police where to look if I go missing.”

“Noted. Anyway. Back to the original conversation. You think you know where we’re going?”

Sebastian turned in his seat to face you and waited for your answer with an amused look.

“We’re… well, we’re headed towards the hospital.” That much you knew. But you were sure Seb’s date idea didn’t include the building where you spent most of your time. In the last month or so, you’d only been to the hospital, the apartment, the diner, and Broadway that one time.

Of course you had no idea where you were going. But it annoyed you that you neither man would tell you where you were going.

Surprises were never high on your list of things you liked.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Seb said. “But that’s not where we’re going.”

Alright. So you’re headed to Washington Heights… What things were near the hospital that you’d seen? There was a BBQ place you’d been wanting to try. But Seb said there would be walking…

“Oh god. You’re not taking me to Planet Fitness, are you?” Laughter from both men filled the car and you got defensive. “What? You’ve threatened to make me go to a gym someday.”

“Yeah, once you’ve recovered from a successful surgery. Babe, you can barely walk up two flights of stairs.”

You were not about to tell him that you were winded after two flights of stairs before you found out you had cancer. “Okay, so if the walking we’re doing today isn’t at a gym, where is it? Central Park? If this is your way of telling me I’m a shut-in who needs Vitamin-D, I can talk to Dr. Chowdhury and have him suggest a multi-vitamin or something. I mean, I definitely wanna see Central Park, but it’s huge. Like, if you have a plan to, like, have one of those bike carriages or something for us, I can see that. But—”

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re blabbing like you were doing when we woke up in Vegas.”

“Blabbing? Excuse me, Mr. Stan. I am sharing my opinion.”

“Well, Mrs. Stan, you sure are doing it in a blabbing way.”

“I—” am being way too defensive. Sebastian didn’t know about everything in your past. He didn’t know why you hated surprises. He was doing something nice for you and it was time you started getting past your hangups. “Sorry. Yeah. I am. I just don’t like surprises. I like to know things, you know?”

“So you know how to protect them. I know, Y/N.” Sebastian took your hand and gave you a soft smile that damn near sent you into cardiac arrest. “Why don’t you just trust that I know enough and can protect you today? You’ve leaned on me for dealing with the press. Lean on me for today, okay?”

You let out a deep breath, trying to relax. “If we’re doing enough walking today, I don’t think I’ll have much of a choice but to lean on you. You might even have to carry me.”

“I give a hell of a piggy back ride.”

This time it was your laughter filling the car. “I’m definitely going to have to take you up on that.”

The car pulled to a stop and you jerked out of the tunnel-vision conversation you’d been having with Seb to look out the window.

“This is the Met,” you stated, trying to think of how Sebastian would know that this was your number one place you wanted to visit. “The Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“Yeah,” Seb had that stupidly soft smile on his face as he took in your reaction.

“I… Wait. I told you the first day we were here I-I-I wanted to come. Like, in passing. How the hell did you remember?”

Rather than answer your question, he asked one of his own. “Think you can handle walking here?”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

He grinned and squeezed your hand once before letting go. “I know you’re all independent and shit, but you’re going to sit in this car and wait for me to come around and open your door, okay?”

“Oh wait,” you pretended to be shocked. “Is this, like, a date-date?”

“Oh, shut up.” He playfully shoved your shoulder before getting out of the car. Before shutting his door, he leaned down. “You stay put.”

He waited until you held your hands up to prove you weren’t going to move before shutting the door and heading around the car.

Sean slung his arm over the back of his seat and looked at you with a smirk. “Wasn’t it just last week you were trying to convince me that Sebastian wasn’t really your man? Huh, Mrs. Stan?”

“You,” you said bluntly, “Shut your damn mouth.”

He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m, just saying… babe.”

“I don’t pay you for this abuse.”

“Your man is the one who pays me.”

Your door opened and you shot Sean one last warning look before taking Seb’s hand and climbing out of the car.

“Have fun you crazy kids!” Sean yelled just before Sebastian closed the door.

As Sean pulled away from the curb, Sebastian gripped your hand tight in his and started walking towards the impressive building.

For the first time since you woke up next to Seb back in Nevada, you weren’t worried about being out in public with him. For the first time, you were looking forward to spending a day out of the apartment with him.

“You know, I saw that interview you did,” you said hours later as you wandered the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas exhibit. “The one where you’d told your mom that you were in Black Panther, but she left before the end credits scene where you actually were.”

“Yeah?”

“I like that story. These masks just reminded me of the scene where Killmonger steals the African mask. Also, I’m blaming you that I can’t think of a Marvel movie without thinking of some sort of connection to you. Even the movies you technically weren’t in.”

His arm tightened around your waist and he kissed your head. “Risks of being married to me.”

“It’s a pretty good risk if you ask me.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “And the perks are pretty good too. I mean, I’m standing in the Met. Something I’ve always wanted to do. Because of you.”

His lips pressed to your forehead. Against your skin, he murmured, “My pleasure. Now let’s go find somewhere to sit down for a bit.”

“Please.” You hated to admit it, but you were almost ready to pack it up and head back home. You hadn’t even seen a quarter of the museum yet.

You decided to lunch at the café in the European Sculpture section, which gave you enough energy to tackle the Modern and Contemporary Art corner.

Half an hour later, you came out of your ‘Sebastian Bubble’ enough to notice some girls whispering a few exhibits away. They kept glancing your way. In such a good mood, you elbowed Seb and nodded towards them. “Looks like some of your fans are here.”

“They’ve been following us for the last ten minutes. Are you just noticing them now?”

“Hey. I’m focused on the art. One-track mind. You know me. Anyway, they probably want a picture with you or something.”

He nodded, considering. “You cool with that? I mean, today’s supposed to be you and me.”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll take the picture. You know those girls will be kicking themselves for weeks if they pass up this chance to meet you. I was once a young teenage girl in love with the Jonas Brothers.”

“Jonas Brothers?” Sebastian gripped his hand over his heart dramatically, groaning. “Geez, woman, you keep saying things that make me feel so old.”

“C’mon, Old Man. Let’s go make those girls’ day.”

As soon as the girls realized you were walking their way, they started tittering excitedly. Their excitement turned to apologies for interrupting your day, but you quickly brushed aside their concerns.

“Hey, don’t apologize. Trust me, if we ran into Kelly Clarkson, it’d be Seb taking my picture with her.”

Between their excitement, random questions, and small talk, you spent a good five minutes with the girls before parting ways. Fully aware that they were still watching you as you walked away, you felt slightly self-conscious when Sebastian pulled you into his side, but you were fast to ignore that feeling. Their attention wasn’t vicious, like the press’s attention was.

“You know they’re going to post those pictures all over their Twitter accounts and stuff, right?”

With a shrug, you replied. “Yeah. But it’s fine. They just want to share. They’re not looking for a paycheck. They’re just excited. It’s different.”

“It’ll probably entice the media to start up again.”

“We’ll deal with it. Did you see how happy those girls were? I don’t see much of that in the hospital. It felt good.”

“Mmm, maybe you do need some of that Vitamin-D, you ol’ shut-in.”

It had been a long time since you’d woken up hearing Jasmin’s voice. For a moment, you just laid there, curled up with Sebastian and wondered if you were dreaming. It took you a few seconds to open your eyes, and when you did, you were even more confused.

“Why are you Skyping on my phone?”

“She’s awake!” Jasmin sang, grinning at you as you blinked, trying to wake up.

Seb pulled the phone back enough to capture both of you in the frame. “She was calling and I figured why not.”

“Mmm, I wish I could have seen your face when Seb popped up on your screen instead of me.”

He laughed. “It was pretty great.”

“Look, when I was calling to see if you knew about the tweets, I was not expecting Sebastian Fucking Stan to answer.”

“Not my middle name,” he mumbled teasingly, earning him a nudge from your leg to his.

You were feeling awake enough to finally sit up, so the two of you took a minute to re-situate and you ignored the bright look in Jasmin’s eyes. She and Sean were the worst. Sure, napping together and teasing each other like you and Seb did definitely cross the lines of just friendship, but those two were so damn into teasing you about it.

So you herded off any comments by taking charge of the conversation. “What tweets? Oh! Did those girls post something?”

“Yeah,” Seb started clicking around on your phone, but you quickly took over since he seemed intent on keeping one arm around you and he was definitely not the best at one-handed phone usage. “She texted a screenshot to you.”

“Because both of you are living in the stone age and don’t have Twitter accounts. Seriously, you guys.”

You could only see her in a corner of your phone, now that you were out of the Skype app, so you didn’t really see her reaction when you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Here we go,” you muttered under your breath, waiting for your phone to load the picture.

It finally pulled up the post. Of the few pictures you’d taken, the girl had chosen her favorite and posted it with the caption:

Met Sebastian Stan at the Met today! DREAM COME TRUE! #stillfangirling

“See?” you said to Seb, turning to him with a smile. “You made her damn day.”

He nodded toward your phone. “Look at the first picture Jaz sent.”

“Is it a post from the other girl?” you wondered aloud as you clicked back.

“No. Actually, the girls found me again while you were in the bathroom and asked if they could post this one.”

Your brow furled. Why would they have to ask permission to post a fan picture? You’d taken those pictures for them.

Then you saw it and understood.

It was a picture the same girl had posted on Instagram of you and Seb, taken from a few feet away. You were facing away from the camera, looking at an exhibit. His arm was securely around your waist with his head turned just enough to be kissing your hair. Without the caption, it could have been anyone in the picture.

11-2-2019 Sebastian Stan and Y/N Y/L/N at the Met. They are both so unbelievably nice and thoughtful. Shandra and I weren’t expecting them to come over to say hi and take pictures with us. Between Sebastian filming and Y/N’s cancer treatment, I’m sure they don’t have much time together, but she made sure we got our pictures anyway! All those articles twisting around her past to make her into some sort of monster can go screw themselves! Unless you’re Kelly Clarkson, you can leave her alone! #shesafan #saidsoherself #cancersucks #prayingforY/N

You hadn’t expected the girls to say anything about you. Beside Sebastian, you were practically invisible, which was always fine with you.

But reading those words brought a smile to your face.

All that fluff!! And an actual date!! Can things get any better than this??

CHAPTER 21: THE FOURTH CHECK-IN

[lightningbugqueensfics]

A Magical Time of Year

Happy Holidays from we the Supernatural fandom! I present to you a fluffy fic of family, gift exchanges, coming out, and copious amounts of Destiel. Minor angst, because I can't resist, but a happy ending all around.

Destiel, No Archive Warnings Apply, and there are spoilers from the finale.

Thanks so much for the help @themoosegoes-deanicandothis!

Link

“Dean, we have to go,” Cas called out, “Sam just texted me that Claire got here, and we still need to get presents for Jody and Charlie!”

“Alright, let’s just do one last check that we got everything,” Dean said back loudly over the din of the mall. It was December 24, 2020, Christmas Eve, and the pair were finishing up their present shopping.

“Dean Winchester, I have gone over that list five times, we have everything!”

“Humor me?”

“Fine,” Cas grumbled, faking annoyance at his boyfriends antics. Dean really did love Christmas, and was actually enjoying himself in this enormous place. Everything was magical during the Christmas season. There were lights everywhere, everyone seemed happier, and snow made everything unreal. Especially this year, when nothing even resembling an apocalypse was occurring, December was Dean’s favorite month. Even the shopping required by it.

“New hat for Bobby, the blanket with the green creature on it for Charlie,”

“Baby Yoda, Cas!” Dean interrupted, “I showed you the first episode, you know who it is!” Cas smiled to himself. Dean was sure he did that just for his boyfriend’s reaction.

“A silver knife set for Jody,” he continued, “And nunchucks for Claire,” Dean grinned at the last one. It had been his idea, and after extensive convincing, Cas had finally given in and let him buy them. The pros of finally dating.

“We already have the hair products and gun cleaning set at home for Sam, along with Eileen’s new gun, books for Kaia, a new bear for Jack, a pasta maker and hair pins for Donna,” Dean had been particularly proud of Donna’s present. The hair pins could be removed and turned into silver daggers, perfect for hunting, “and that book on mythology and medicine for Alex. And for you a-”

“No, remember Cas, not supposed to tell me,”

“Right. Yours is a secret, but just from you. Are we missing anything, Dean?” he finished sarcastically.

“Nope, we got it all.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here,” Cas grabbed Dean’s elbow as forcefully as an angel could without hurting him, and steered him towards the door.

“Cas, I was thinking maybe we could go grab lunch in the food court before we go?” Dean ventured.

“Dean, I love you very much,” Dean flushed and ducked his head, “but I would rather not spend another second in this godforsaken hellhole.”

Dean conceded, knowing fully well about Castiel’s fear of crowds. It had taken some kissing and pleading to even get him to come today. The hunter nodded his head and threaded his fingers through the angel’s, joining him on their way out.

They left without another word. Dean stayed silent until they got in the car, and let go of Castiel’s hand. He wasn’t quite pouting, per se, but he was very hungry! Halfway home, Cas turned to him.

“We can go get burgers if you’d like…?” A smile broke out on the hunter's face as he jerked the car around. Burgers at the local diner had become the pair’s staple date, so much so that the owner knew then by name.

As they sped off to get their grub, the smile widened on Dean’s face. He reached out and grabbed Castiel’s hand in his own, happy to be exactly where he was.

The enormous metal door clanged open, prompting excited outbursts from Charlie and Donna. The two had taken a surprising liking to each other in the week they had spent together in the bunker, and at this point it was strange to see one without the other.

“Boys!” Donna called out, “Get down here, and tell Jody that the Southern Ocean is totally a thing!”

“The what?” Dean asked jovially. Everything was brighter in the bunker with their family around, the air felt like it was doused in joy.

“The southern ocean,” Jody said, “Donna claims that there’s an ocean around Antarctica called the Southern Ocean, but I know for certain that it didn’t exist when I was in school,” Jody, Donna, Charlie, and Bobby were seated around the war room table. Despite their supposed argument, Donna’s feet were settled comfortably in Jody’s lap, and they were smiling at each other lovingly. Dean would never admit it, but they were a really cute couple.

“I’ve never heard of it,” he supplied as he walked down the stairs, Cas close behind. It earned a “Ha!” from Jody, who pointed at Donna victoriously.

“Jodyo, that doesn’t mean anything! Deano here barely got an education--no offense, sunshine--we should ask a more reliable source!”

“Hey!” Dean called out. He may not have gone to college, but he still went to school. He went unanswered.

“I’ve never heard of it either, and I’ve been around longer than anyone here,” Bobby put in.

“And yet you thought Australia was part of Oceania yesterday,” Charlie said with a cheeky grin. Dean had no clue where all these geography based arguments had come from, but he would be the first to admit they were hilarious.

“Listen here, ya idjit, this ‘Oceania’ didn’t even exist when I was young. Don’t be ageist,”

Charlie scoffed and tried to snark back, but Jody interrupted her.

“Alright, fine,” the sheriff said, “Cas, you’re an angel. Is the Southern Ocean a thing?”

“Yes,”

“See!” Donna exclaimed.

“But,” he continued, “It was only established in the year 2000. So I think you’re both right. Jody didn’t learn about it in school, but it is real,” The women stared at each other, not quite knowing how to react.

“Huh,” Jody said eventually, “Cool, I guess,”

Charlie rose and sidled up beside Cas.

“I tried to tell them that,” she whispered, “Even looked it up on my tablet. But nooooo, they only trust the angel,” she said it all with a smile on her lips, despite the tone of her voice.

After Jack restored everyone and released all his power back into the world, the boys found out he had done them one last favor. Not only had he brought back the Charlie from apocalypse world, he also revived their Charlie, the one killed by Styne. It was awkward at first, but the two actually made fast friends. Apocalypse Charlie had decided to spend this Christmas alone with Stevie, like Patience had with her dad, so it was just the original Charlie hanging with them this year.

“Alright,” Dean said, “As weird and nerdy as this conversation has been, Cas and I have some presents to wrap,” he held up the bags in his hands to prove his point.

“Have fun, boys,” Donna waved them away, and the two headed towards their room.

They stopped in the kitchen along the way, greeting Sam and Eileen who were working on the stuffing, which Dean had assigned to them. He had taken charge of all the cooking this year, working all of their guests to get ready for the feast he had planned. Dean snagged a beer for himself and Cas from the fridge and signed a quick Have fun, Moose Sam’s way before heading out. With Eileen back, the residents of the bunker had all gotten much better at sign language, and Dean was very proud of how far he’d come.

They passed Claire and Kaia watching Home Alone in the Fortress of Deanitude. They stopped by to give them a quick greeting and hugs, but left them to their movie. Claire had said she wanted to educate her girlfriend on the culture she’d missed, but Dean was sure it was just an excuse to cuddle with her. Lord knows he’d done the exact same with Cas.

Jack was wrapping presents in his room, and Dean had to remind him again to keep the door closed while he did.

“But why, Dean?”

“I told you, they’re supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we wrap them, so it kinda defeats the purpose if someone sees what it is before it’s wrapped.”

“Why is it a surprise?”

“Because that’s part of the Christmas spirit. Random things that someone might not even want wrapped in colorful paper stuffed under a dying tree.”

“Okay!” he said with a smile.

Finally, Cas and Dean made it to their room. They had decided on Cas moving into Dean’s room when they got together, considering Castiel spent barely any time in his and Dean’s mattress was better.

They wrapped in silence for a while, before Dean spoke hesitantly.

“I think I’m going to tell them, tomorrow,”

“Tell who what?” Cas turned to him and put down the blanket for Charlie. Dean’s tone was worrying.

“Tell everyone here about us, that we’re dating.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Then why haven’t you told them yet?”

“I’m scared,” Dean and Cas had made a rule the day after they got together. They would be completely honest with each other. Not more lies, tricks, or deception. They were so bad at communication that they pined after each other for twelve years before getting together, and Dean was determined to never let anything like that happen again. Hence the honesty.

“Why?” Cas moved forward, pulling Dean’s hand into his own, “You don’t think they think two men being together is wrong, do you?”

“Nah, of course not. There are more gay couples in our family than straight ones. I’m scared that they won’t want me to be with you because you’re an angel. We’re hunters, babe! Hell, I tried to kill you when I first met you. I know they love you, but what if they don’t think you should be with a human like me?”

“Dean, tell me. What was Sam’s reaction when we told him?” When Dean finally told Sam, a week after Jack brought Cas back and Dean kissed him for the first time, the man’s reaction had essentially been, “finally, you idiots!” It was so much better than Dean’s insecurity had told him that he nearly started crying. Nearly.

“He said we were idiots and was proud of us for finally getting together,” he grumbled.

“And Eileen?”

“She hugged us and gave me a link to something called ‘Archive of Our Own’ that had creepy stuff about us written on it.”

“Jack?”

“He asked if that meant we were really both his dads now,” Dean had actually started crying that time.

“So do you really think the rest of them won’t approve?”

“I know, I know. It’s stupid, but there’s this voice in the back of my head just telling me that they’ll leave me, eventually.”

“It’s not stupid, love, it makes sense. Dean, know that I will never leave you again. And nobody out there will. We love you, we’re your family. Dean Winchester, I promise you that not a single person in this bunker will ever leave you out of choice,”

“Thank you,” the hunter whispered, then leaned forward to kiss his angel softly. Minutes later, after they finally broke apart, Dean made a decision.

“I’m going to tell them. Tomorrow, when we open presents. I love you Cas, and I need people to know that.”

“I’m proud of you, my love,” Cas smiled kindly, cupping Dean’s chin, “Now, let’s finish wrapping these presents, then maybe we can join the girls and watch that movie. I find Marv very funny,” Dean pulled him in for another kiss, then went back to Claire’s nunchucks. He wrapped them in copious amounts of tissue paper, shaping it like a wrapped shirt. Pranks on Claire were his favorites, and tricking her into thinking a weapon was some kind of disappointing Christmas sweater was going to be fun .

The next morning, Jack bounded into their room at six o’ clock sharp. Dean had made the mistake of telling the kid that he couldn’t wake them before six, assuming he would sleep in like every other morning and get them at nine, maybe. Apparently not.

Jack flopped on the bed on Cas’s side that was regularly empty. Not like Dean would ever admit it, but the both of them loved cuddling. It was a rare occasion that Dean woke up without Castiel’s back pressed comfortably to his chest.

Gone were the days when Dean snatched a gun from beneath his pillow if he was startled from sleep. Cas could do that to a man. Today he just grunted tiredly.

“Dean! Cas!” Jack whispered excitedly, “It’s Christmas! Like, actual Christmas, not the one we had with Ms. Butters!”

“Yeah, kid,” Dean grumbled, lifting his head to look over Castiel’s shoulder, “It is. But the sun also hasn’t risen yet, so could you give half an hour?”

“Okay!” Jack said, not fazed, “I’ll go get Jody and Donna!” Dean nodded, brain still addled from sleep. A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, Jack,” he called out, “Be quiet, and only wake up Donna!” Dean had seen Jody in the morning, it wasn’t a good idea to wake her against her will.

Jack nodded, still excited, and rushed out of the room. Dean shoved his face back into Castiel’s neck, breathing in the comforting scent of honey and ozone. He actually wasn’t sure how their guests hadn’t noticed them sleeping together, but they hadn’t mentioned it, so he guessed they just never felt the need to venture to this part of the bunker so late at night.

Exactly thirty minutes later, after Castiel had woken and the two had made no effort to leave their cozy bed, Jack reappeared in their doorway.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling as bright as ever.

“Sure, Jack,” Cas said, very excited for his first Christmas as well, “why don’t you get everyone together in the war room and we’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay!” he said before rushing off again. Dean didn’t know how he had so much energy so early in the morning.

“You ready for this?” Cas asked, giving his boyfriend a peck on the cheek and standing up.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I actually think I am.”

“Then let’s go,” Cas said determinedly before grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him up beside him. They headed out the door side by side, clad in scooby doo and bumble bee pajama pants with old band t-shirts on top.

The war room held what Dean thought his heaven must really look like. Sam and Eileen were curled up in one of their brand new armchairs Dean had chosen to sit by the tree, signing at each other with lightning speed. Jody was on the ground with her legs stretched out, Donna’s head in her lap and a cup of coffee in her hands. Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Jack all sat as close to the presents as possible, and Dean didn’t miss Jack trying to peek into a bag with his name on it that Dean had put there last night. It seemed like the girls were trying to explain some of their favorite Christmas traditions to him, but the nephilim just looked lost.

Bobby was seated in the other armchair, and Charlie leaned against its leg. Their family was all here, and it was a beautiful sight.

When Donna caught sight of the pair, a big smile split her face.

“Deano, Angel Boy!” she called out, “Don’t be shy! Come on over here, there’s plenty of room. Maybe Jody’ll even let you put your head in her lap too!” From the look on Jody’s face, Dean didn’t think that was going to happen.

Cas headed in in front of him, and settled himself down right beside Donna. Dean joined Charlie leaning against Bobby’s chair.

“Dean,” Jody grumbled, “that boy of yours woke me up at the asscrack of dawn saying that you told him it was okay.”

“I told him to wake Donna up,” Dean gave a meaningful look at Jack, “because I know she’s an early riser. I specifically told him not to wake you, so I’m wondering why exactly he did?” Dean, Cas, and Jody turned to Jack while he heard something that sounded suspiciously like “Oooooh, someone’s in trouble,” from Claire. Dean shot a glare her way before turning back to Jack.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he explained, “I was super excited and I really only meant to wake up Donna but I think we talked too loud and woke up Jody too. I’m sorry,” and there were the puppy eyes. Damn kid had learned them from Sam, and who was Dean to resist.

“Alright, Jack, I’m not mad at you,” he gave in, “Just remember to never wake Jody up again. Capeesh?”

“Yes, I capeesh,” Jack nodded, repeating a phrase Cas had obviously taught him. Jody smiled at him kindly, letting him know that she wasn’t still angry at him. No matter how grumpy Jody could be in the morning, she was one of the kindest people Dean knew.

“Not that this hasn’t all been just touching,” Eileen said and signed, “But could we open presents now? I got up this early for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Dean said, “Go ahead and start handing them out, kid.”

Jack scrambled to grab the first present he could get his hands on, and thus the present exchanging began. Some families did it one at a time, taking a moment for each present. Not the Winchesters and company. They ripped into their gifts at lightning speed, only taking the time to fawn over the present and thank the gifter profusely before moving on.

Kaia loved the books from the brothers and Cas, and squealed when she saw the warding necklace Claire made her, kissing her girlfriend cheerfully. At the same time Donna was thanking Alex for her “#1 Sheriff” mug while Jody protested that she, in fact, was the best sheriff. Their exchange was interrupted by a shriek of “ Nunchucks!!! ” from Claire, which caused Jody to glare at Dean for ten minutes straight. Charlie leapt up and hugged Dean and Bobby when she found a Baby Yoda blanket and working futuristic gun side by side. Bobby loved his new hat as much as Sam loved the beanie Jack got him, and Jody gave Donna a big kiss for her new gun. Alex loved her mythology and medicine book, and Eileen actually got two guns due to miscommunication. She couldn’t have been happier. Cas gave Kaia and Claire an enormous hug to thank them for a new tie, this one stitched with wings and halos. Towards the end, Dean gave Cas a bumblebee beanie and Cas gave Dean socks with pie on them. Dean had to hold himself back from kissing the man on the spot.

Finally, once the present exchange had died down, and everyone was left admiring their new possession, Dean had no more reason to put it off. He had shifted over to sit beside Cas while they all opened their gifts, so he turned to Cas, whispered in his ear what he was going to do, then took a deep breath.

He started to stand up, felt awkward, then sat back down. He cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck, and couldn’t for the life of him start talking.

“Spit it out, Dean,” Bobby grumbled.

“Heh?” he asked.

“You’ve been shifting around for five minutes like you’ve either gotta pee or you need to say something. I’m betting on the latter, so don’t keep me waiting.”

“Oh, um,” Dean started, his stomach in knots, “Well I do actually have something I need to tell you. All of you. Except for Sam, Eileen, and Jack. They already know, see… And now I need to tell the rest of you because it’s very important but know that I think about it I’d rather not--”

“Dean,” Jody said gently, “You can tell us anything. I promise.”

“Ok, well, um… ok. So, you remember the whole Chuck infinity snap everyone dies thing?”

“Vividly,” Donna said.

“Well we lost Cas right then too. Not for the same reason, that’s a story for another day. Anyway, we lost him, It was…” he started to get choked up. Head in the game, Winchester , he thought, “It was horrible but Jack brought him back and after that the two of us kinda started… dating? Like, we’re together now,” he finished with a grimace, disappointed with his… well, talking skills. Cas grabbed his hand comfortingly, and smiled at him with eyes that said I’m proud of you .

“Uh, Dean,” Claire said, breaking the silence, “We know.”

“Huh?”

“Honey,” Donna cut in, “You two aren’t exactly subtle. To be honest, I thought you two lovebirds were together from the moment I saw you together, and Jody had to convince me you weren’t. Recently though, it’s kinda obvious, sweetheart. You’re both so much happier. You still do the staring thing, but it’s less intense. Castiel’s ASL name for you is literally ‘freckles.’ And you really think we didn’t notice you sleeping in the same room? We thought you knew that we knew.”

“You… knew?” Dean asked, shocked. Donna nodded, “And you’re like, okay with it and stuff?”

“Dean, why wouldn’t we be. I’m dating Jody, Claire’s dating Kaia, why the hell do you think we wouldn’t approve?”

“No, no, not that. It’s just, Cas is an angel. Literally and figuratively. I thought you might not like that we’re not the same… species?” By now Cas’ arm was wrapped around Dean, and he had slouched into his side.

“Well, you were obviously wrong, weren't cha? None of us could ever think Cas is a monster, and you two obviously belong together,” Donna said kindly.

“I'm proud of you, boy,” Bobby added, making Dean duck his head and grin.

“Thanks Donna, Bobby,” he said, “I’m sorry I doubted you. And were we really that obvious?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said in his gravelly voice, “I’m fairly certain we were. I thought they knew already at first, but as you are more well versed in human interaction, I trusted your judgement over my own,” at this, Claire cracked up, quickly joined by Alex and Sam.

“Not that this hasn’t been the most awkward conversation ever--except a certain dinner--” Dean and Sam shuddered at the memory, “but I would really appreciate some breakfast. And I was promised pie?” Claire said with a smile, cutting the tension in the room with ease.

Hours later, after breakfast and pie had been eaten, and Jody had already taken away Claire’s nunchucks until further notice, Dean and Cas were left alone in the war room.

“That went a very different route than I expected,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around the angel’s waist and leading him towards their room.

“That seems to happen often in our lives, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Is it a good thing?”

“Right now, I think it is.”

Dean stopped Castiel in the doorway of the hall, and looked up at the plant hanging above their heads.

“Mistletoe,” he said, then drew his angel in for a kiss.

Christmas truly was a magical time of year.

[themarketinsights]

Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market May Set New Growth Story | Allianz, Munich RE, Oman Insurance, Chubb

Advance Market Analytics published a new research publication on “Global Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market Insights, to 2027” with 232 pages and enriched with self-explained Tables and charts in presentable format. In the study, you will find new evolving Trends, Drivers, Restraints, Opportunities generated by targeting market-associated stakeholders. The growth of the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector market was mainly driven by the increasing R&D spending across the world.

Major players profiled in the study are:

AXA SA (France), Chubb (Switzerland), Tokio Marine HCC (United States), Liberty Mutual Insurance Company (United States), Allianz (Germany), American International Group, Inc.(United States), Berkshire Hathaway, Inc(United States), Munich RE (Germany), Zurich (Switzerland), Oman Insurance Company (United Arab Emirates), Al Ain Ahlia Insurance Co. (United Arab Emirates), International General Insurance Co Ltd(Jordan), HDI Global SE(Germany)

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Scope of the Report of Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector

The downstream Energy insurance consists of businesses in power generation, electricity supply, renewable energy, oil refining, and petrochemical processing, against all risk of direct physical loss or damage to property including business interruption arising. In the energy industry, property insurance covers human life, the environment, and property from any accidents related to energy organization activities. The energy industry consists of a series of procedures, chemical reactions, and harsh and difficult working conditions which tend to increase the risk to cost-intensive property, human life, and the environment. Thus, the industry requires to be insured to cover a certain proportion of the liability in case of any accidents. Property insurance is a policy that provides financial reimbursement to the owner or renter of a structure and its contents in the event of damage or theft. Property insurance can include personal insurance, renter’s insurance, flood insurance, and earthquake insurance. According to the study, The Middle East Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector market was valued at USD 1103.38 Million in 2020 and is expected to reach USD 1501.17 Million by 2026.

The Global Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market segments and Market Data Break Down are illuminated below:

by Distribution Channel (Direct, Agency, Banks, Other), Coverage (All-risk Physical Damage, Construction and Builders’ Risk, Mechanical Breakdown and Business Interruption, Loss of Production Income, Others), End User (Renewable Energy, Oil Refining, Petrochemical Processing, Others)

Market Opportunities:

More inclination towards Digital Access and Enhanced Claim Settlings

Market Drivers:

Rising Demand for Up Surging New and Ongoing Projects

The Increasing Awareness Regarding the Insurance for Energy Industry in Developing Countries

Market Trend:

Huge Enhancement for oil and gas protection Oil and Gas

Declining Energy Prices

What can be explored with the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market Study?

Gain Market Understanding

Identify Growth Opportunities

Analyze and Measure the Global Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market by Identifying Investment across various Industry Verticals

Understand the Trends that will drive Future Changes in Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector

Understand the Competitive Scenarios

Track Right Markets

Identify the Right Verticals

Region Included are: North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Oceania, South America, Middle East & Africa

Country Level Break-Up: United States, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Chile, South Africa, Nigeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Germany, United Kingdom (UK), the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Austria, Turkey, Russia, France, Poland, Israel, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, Singapore, India, Australia and New Zealand etc.

Have Any Questions Regarding Global Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market Report, Ask Our Experts@ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/enquiry-before-buy/182513-global-downstream-property-insurance-in-the-energy-sector-market#utm_source=DigitalJournalVinay

Strategic Points Covered in Table of Content of Global Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market:

Chapter 1: Introduction, market driving force product Objective of Study and Research Scope the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector market

Chapter 2: Exclusive Summary – the basic information of the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market.

Chapter 3: Displaying the Market Dynamics- Drivers, Trends and Challenges & Opportunities of the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector

Chapter 4: Presenting the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market Factor Analysis, Porters Five Forces, Supply/Value Chain, PESTEL analysis, Market Entropy, Patent/Trademark Analysis.

Chapter 5: Displaying the by Type, End User and Region/Country 2016-2021

Chapter 6: Evaluating the leading manufacturers of the Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector market which consists of its Competitive Landscape, Peer Group Analysis, BCG Matrix & Company Profile

Chapter 7: To evaluate the market by segments, by countries and by Manufacturers/Company with revenue share and sales by key countries in these various regions (2022-2027)

Chapter 8 & 9: Displaying the Appendix, Methodology and Data Source

Finally, Downstream Property Insurance in the Energy Sector Market is a valuable source of guidance for individuals and companies.

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