#but is equally quick to jump on that bandwagon

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

the graveyard shift. ( frasier crane x reader )

gif belongs to me

From his past with the management from KACL, you predicted Frasier's troubles with the new station manager, and when he returned home after he met with Kate Costas you heard the slam of the door and his thundering footsteps.

You looked over your shoulder, closing your book when he stepped onto the balcony. "It went well then?"

Frasier shoved his hands in his pockets, and you sent him a smile when he ground his jaw.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense. What happened?"

You moved your legs on the lounger, and Frasier sat down with a sigh. "I'm Captain Midnight." He rested his elbow on his leg, dropping his head onto his hand.

"Ooh, graveyard shift." You giggled when he sent you an exasperated look. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," You knelt behind his shoulders, placing your arms around his neck. "When do you start your new time slot?"

"Tonight."

"You'll never get any sleep. You'll be exhausted." Knowing he had an earlier meeting this morning, you went to bed earlier than usual last night. "What are you going to do?"

"I have no choice. I have to show up tonight. I'll have to cancel our reservation."

You rubbed his shoulders, "That's okay. I always preferred coming home to the fine dining." A smile formed on your lips when his back straightened, catching your meaning.

"Oh really?"

"But if you want to sit around and mope I completely understand." You pulled away as you got to your feet, lingering in the doorway to send him a smile over your shoulder.

"Moping?" Frasier stood up, following after you when you headed down the hallway towards the bedroom. "I'm not moping! See?" He flashed a toothy grin and you shook your head when he caught up to you as you opened the door.

You frequently listened to his radio show while driving, or while you were sitting reading, or cleaning the condo. He had told you about his miserable Christmas when his son didn't come to Seattle and he agreed to do a show. You knew tonight would be much, much worse.

You heard the moment he began to lose interest in the calls that were gradually getting stranger and more boring with each caller and after he told an insomniac to get some sleep - likely falling asleep in the booth, you decided to pay him a late night visit at the station.

The roads were nearly deserted at one in the morning and you arrived at the station quicker than normal due to the lack of traffic. When you entered Roz sent you a smile and as she filled you in on how their night was going, and the reason why Frasier had been placed on the graveyard shift in the first place, you knew that desperate times called for equal measures.

You sent your boyfriend a wave when he glanced your way, his head swiveling back when he realized you weren't a figment of his imagination. He cut to a commercial break and took off his headphones as you entered his booth.

"I thought you could use some cheering up. And coffee." You poured two cups of coffee he had imported from Costa Rica and handed one to a grateful Roz who endured the burn to waken up a little.

"How much did you hear?"

"Oh, I've been listening since you started. Nice work with the insomniac." You teased with a smile.

"Well, I try."

"You fell asleep, didn't you?"

"We both did," Roz admitted before leaving the booth to return to her desk.

You shook your head, and sat on the edge of the desk, careful not to touch anything. "You know what you need to do."

"Sleep?"

You gently tapped your foot against his leg. "No. Well, yes, but later. First...fight fire with fire. She wants excitement? Give her what she wants, and a little more."

Frazier sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair as he considered it. When a grin formed on his lips you knew he was in agreement. He set his cup down and pressed a button that allowed only Roz to hear his voice as he explained your plan. The brunette was quick to jump on the bandwagon and you blamed most of their excitement on their exhaustion.

The corners of your lips tugged upwards as Frasier handed you a pair of headphones and addressed his listeners. You put them on as he picked up his own, leaning into the microphone as he spoke.

"Okay. We're back Seattle. And in accordance with new station policy we are going to be pandering to the lowest human instinct. In other words...who wants to talk about sex?" He repeated the word sex eight times and you covered your mouth to supress your laughter when Roz played a whip sound effect and he cheered. "I want to know who is having sex, how you're having it - I wanna know if you're having it right now!"

You looked at Roz through the glass when her voice came through the headphones. "Look, Dr. Crane the lines are hot. Really hot."

"Thank you, Kitty." Frasier chose a button at random and spoke to the caller. "Hello, caller. What are you wearing?"

"Nothing." The woman caller replied.

"Hey, that's a great idea! Let's all get naked!" Frasier looked at you, you raised an eyebrow when his eyes glanced at your legs that were peeking out from beneath your dress.

"Uh-uh." You shook your head, beginning to wonder if you used water in their coffee or vodka.

Your eyes widened when he announced he was getting naked and he removed his headphones, taking off his blue sweatshirt and jeans while Roz adressed the listeners.

"While Dr. Crane strips, our new station manager would like to know if you would like to be the spanker or the spankee."

"Oh, definitely the spankee." The woman caller replied.

You couldn't hold in your giggles when he tossed the blue sweatshirt towards you, catching it as he told the woman caller to hop in a cab while waving his jeans around.

"I'm not wearing any pants!"

The graveyard shift just got interesting.

You stayed for the reminder of the show and drove Roz home when it ended. You arrived at the condo to find the living room lit from the early morning light coming from the balcony and left your keys by the door as you headed to the bedroom. A fond smile formed on your lips when you saw Frasier lying on top of the sheets with his shoes hanging over the edge. He had driven home and collapsed on the bed.

You took off your trench coat, draping it on the armchair where you put your shoes on every morning and removed his sneakers, tucking them under the armchair to avoid tripping over them. You toed off your shoes and placed them next to his before joining him on the bed. Frasier stirred when you cuddled into his side and placed his arm beneath your head, his other arm draping over your waist.

"How did we do?"

"I think the city of Seattle will be talking about it for a very long time."

"Good." He ran his hand down your hip and turned his head when he felt how short your dress was. "Is this the dress that I think it is?"

You tilted your head up to meet his cobalt gaze, "Maybe."

"You were wearing that the whole time? I feel underdressed."

"Not necessarily." You tugged on his well worn blue sweatshirt with a slant smile, "I happen to like this shirt very, very much."

"Oh really?" He shifted until he lay facing you and your smile grew when he brought you closer.

You hummed, closing your eyes when his nose brushed yours, followed by a feather like graze of his lips on yours. "I thought you were tired?"

"You know, it's the strangest thing. I suddenly feel invigorated."

"Oh really?" You placed a hand on his cheek when he hummed, feeling the rumble of his chest as he brought you closer.

Frasier leaned in, his lips enveloping yours and you moved your arm around his neck, smiling into the kiss when he rolled over, hovering above you as his hands explored every curve beneath the tight fitting dress. He had many weaknesses when it came to you, but the little black off-shoulder dress was the greatest.

Later that day he was dragged into Kate's office after she listened to the taping of his show and when he left her office the smile that was on his lips when he left the condo that afternoon hadn't faltered.

You were sipping coffee at the dining table when the door opened, and he held it as he announced his victory. You clapped your hands, and he bowed as he closed the door.

"All it took was for me to pretend as if I wanted to do themed shows and her telling me not to outside her office to make it appear as if it was all her idea and," he clapped his hands together, "all is right with the world again.

"You stuck it to the man!" You raised your fist, tilting your head, "Or in this particular case a woman."

"She wanted raunch and we gave it to her." He walked over to you and rested his hand on the back of your chair, smiling down at you. "Hi."

"Hi." You mirrored his smile, lifting a hand to his jaw as he leaned down to kiss you. "We make a pretty good team."

"Wine?"

"It's three o'clock." You giggled, turning to watch as he walked over to fetch a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"So? It's eight o'clock somewhere."

You smiled when he wiggled the glasses, nodding, and he joined you at the table. He poured two glasses of wine and you toasted to his victory.

"To the graveyard shift."

"May I never endure it again."

You giggled, nodding in agreement as you clinked your glass with his. You took a sip, and as he set his glass on the table, you noticed his stare and the slight curve of his lips.

"What?"

"I know why you did it. Why you drove in the middle of the night to the station." He paused. "You knew you would miss falling asleep next to me."

You lifted your legs onto his lap and brought your glass to your lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh." You shared a smile with him as you both drank your wine.

He knew you would never admit it, but it was readable from your expression, and he knew he was right. Every night, ever since you first spent the night at his condo when you started dating, you always fell asleep in his arms. It was a simple thing, but sometimes even the small things mean the most. He too, treasured that time as you talked before falling asleep. Kissing your head and telling you he loved you quickly became a part of his nightly ritual and Frasier couldn't imagine being without it.

He hoped this was the last time he was ever assigned the graveyard shift because he wanted to enjoy every single night, talking to you long after you both should have fallen asleep, kissing you and telling you he loved you and falling asleep with you in his arms. Every night he spent without you before you met felt like a waste, and he savored the time you spent together.

[empressofthewind]

i've seen a few people posting submissions for the previous Meronia Event semi-recently since they're still open, so i'm jumping on the bandwagon and dropping a little excerpt here from the first draft of my last planned fic, that i never ended up finishing. the prompts for this one were hand & gun, which completes the bingo board!! 🎉

~

“You can hold it if you want.”

Near hesitated, eyes shifting between the gun in Mello's hand and his expectant stare. It was that very gun that had been aimed at his head less than a week ago, Mello's finger a millimetre away from killing him, and now Mello trusted him enough to hold it - not just trusted him, but wanted him to, if the increasing stain of impatience on his face was anything to go by.

Near took the offering and turned it over in his hands, studying the details. It was heavier than it looked; maybe a kilogram, if Near had to guess. Its body was mostly silver with a gold trigger and similar gold accents along the top and side of the barrel. A small Celtic cross charm hung from the grip by a chain, several centimetres in length.

He curled his fingers around the grip with one poised on the trigger and aimed it at the wall opposite him, making a small noise that mimicked the sound of a gun firing. Mello raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to teach you how to hold it properly?”

Near lowered his arm. “Sure.”

Mello shuffled closer and wrapped his own hand around the grip of the gun, over the top of Near’s. Near's heart rate spiked at the touch, and he watched in silence, equal parts stunned by the sudden contact and mesmerised by the quick movement of Mello's fingers as he adjusted the positioning of Near’s hand. Leaving his index finger on the trigger, Mello shifted Near's thumb higher and his other three fingers lower, just below the trigger guard.

“If you can, it’s always more secure to use two hands.” He retrieved Near’s left hand from where it hung limp at his side and placed the heel of his palm over the exposed section of the grip. His fingers naturally curled around it, covering part of his right hand on the other side. “See how your left hand gives it that extra support?”

Near stared down at the gun and nodded, opting not to mention that the two times he had seen Mello point a gun at someone, only one hand had been involved. Mello released his grip on Near and leaned back, and without the additional reinforcement, Near's arm immediately succumbed to exhaustion and dropped from its outstretched position. Instead, he held the gun low and close to his chest, aiming it at the bed beneath him as if intending to shoot a hole straight through the mattress.

Mello sighed.

“You have to keep it steady, obviously.”

Mello reached for Near again, this time wrapping one arm around him and holding it parallel to Near's. He was closer than he had been before - chest against Near's back, palm against the back of his hand - as he held Near's arm up on his behalf, gun now firmly aimed at the wall. He was so close Near could feel the rhythmic rise-fall of his chest, could hear the corresponding breaths as the air passed just beside his ear. It felt less like the guidance of an instructor and more like an embrace, an intimate touch, and that sensation was as foreign to Near as the gravity of Mars.

From the outside, Near might have looked more stable, with Mello holding his arm and body still. Internally, though, he had been thrust into panic mode; throat dry, stomach twisting, heart kicking violently against his ribcage. His thoughts were moving so quickly, they had blurred into one single noise, the grating buzz of static, and the only words he could discern amongst the chaos were Mello is touching me.

Mello.

“Do you want me to show you the proper stance too?” Mello asked.

It took every modicum of Near's self-control to keep his voice even. “No, that’s alright.”

[catonablog-blog-blog]

Ahoy there, my dear readers! Rufus T. Flywheel here, your unconventional guide through life's quirky adventures and controversial practices. Today, I want to delve into a topic that will surely raise a few eyebrows and perhaps even elicit a chuckle or two: the age-old practice of licking doorknobs for an immune system boost. Now, before you raise your hand in disbelief or start scrubbing your doorknobs with disinfectant, let's take a closer look at this seemingly bizarre activity and explore whether there is any truth behind the madness. As a self-proclaimed aficionado of unconventional health practices, I'm always on the lookout for new ways to keep the body and mind in top shape. And let me tell you, licking doorknobs is definitely up there on the list of unique approaches. First things first, let's address the elephant in the room – the idea of licking a doorknob, a seemingly unsanitary and unhygienic object, for health benefits. At first glance, it may sound like a recipe for disaster, a surefire way to catch every germ and bacterium within a ten-mile radius. But here's where things get interesting: proponents of this practice argue that exposing oneself to a small amount of germs and bacteria can actually boost the immune system, making it stronger and more resilient in the long run. Think of it as a form of immunization by ingestion – by introducing a small dose of germs to the body, the immune system is forced to kick into gear and produce antibodies to fight off potential threats. In the process, the immune system becomes more adept at recognizing and combating harmful pathogens, thus strengthening its overall effectiveness. It's like giving your immune system a mini boot camp to toughen it up for battle. Of course, the idea of purposely exposing oneself to germs may sound counterintuitive in a society that often prioritizes cleanliness and germ-free environments. But the truth is, our bodies are designed to handle a certain level of exposure to germs and bacteria. In fact, some studies suggest that our obsession with cleanliness and hygiene may actually be contributing to the rise in allergies and autoimmune diseases, as our immune systems are not being challenged and stimulated enough to function optimally. Now, before you go licking every doorknob in sight, it's important to approach this practice with caution and common sense. Not all doorknobs are created equal, and some may be more germ-infested than others. It goes without saying that you should avoid licking doorknobs in public places or high-traffic areas where the risk of exposure to harmful pathogens is higher. Stick to your own doorknobs at home or in a controlled environment where you can be reasonably certain of their cleanliness. But even then, don't go overboard with the licking. A quick dab or swipe of the tongue is all it takes to introduce a small amount of germs to the body – there's no need to engage in a full-blown make-out session with your doorknob. And if you have a weak immune system or underlying health conditions, it's always best to consult with a healthcare professional before embarking on any unconventional health practices. So, does licking doorknobs for an immune system boost actually work? The jury is still out, and the scientific evidence on this practice is scarce at best. But for some adventurous souls out there, the allure of testing the limits of their immune system may be worth the risk. After all, the human body is a remarkable and resilient machine, capable of adapting to all sorts of challenges and stimuli. In the end, whether you choose to jump on the doorknob-licking bandwagon or stick to more conventional methods of boosting your immune system, the key is to listen to your body and find what works best for you. As for me, I'll continue to explore the weird and wonderful world of unconventional health practices, one doorknob lick at a time. Until next time, stay curious, stay adventurous, and never be afraid to think outside the box – or in this case, outside the doorknob. That's all for now, folks! Rufus T. Flywheel signing off. Stay quirky, stay healthy, and don't forget to wash your hands – or your doorknobs. Cheers!

[vendekin11]

Vending Machine 101: Picking the Perfect Vend for Your Trendy Business

In a world that thrives on convenience, the vending machine has transformed from a mere snack dispenser into a multifaceted business partner. With the global vending machine market projected to reach a jaw-dropping $6.97 billion, it’s clear that these machines are no longer just about chips and soda. From cosmetics to mobile phones, businesses of all shapes and sizes are jumping on the vending bandwagon. But before you invest in a machine, it’s essential to find the right fit for your unique needs. Let’s break down the key ingredients to a successful vending machine purchase!

Types of Vending Machines: What’s Your Flavor? First things first: not all vending machines are created equal. Your product dictates your machine. Are you dispensing hot coffee to sleepy office workers? Opt for a cashless coffee vending machine with a heater. Planning to sell refreshing ice cream on a hot summer day? You’ll need a machine with a refrigerator. And for delicate items like milk packages? An elevator vending machine is your best bet. Vendekin’s Expert Tip: Identify your product mix before diving into machine selection. Understanding your target audience will steer you toward the ideal vending solution!

Size Matters: The Goldilocks Principle When it comes to machine size, you don’t want it too big or too small; you want it just right! The size of your vending machine should match your product turnover and the available space. If you expect quick sales of snacks and beverages, a larger machine might be necessary to minimize the hassle of constant refilling. However, in cramped office spaces, a mini coffee vending machine might be your best option.

Location, Location, Location! The location of your vending machine is as critical as the machine itself. A high-traffic area like a mall or metro station could be a goldmine, but make sure the machine can handle the hustle and bustle. Consider clearance space, power outlets, and any security measures you might need. Vendekin’s expert team can help identify profitable locations using their smart cloud-based vending software, vNetra. With data-driven insights, you'll be sure to hit the jackpot!

User-Friendly and Hassle-Free Vending machines should make life easier for both you and your customers. Before making a purchase, test the machine's usability. A seamless experience is key—after all, convenience is the name of the game! Vendekin-powered machines streamline the process into three simple steps: scan, select, and pay. Plus, Bluetooth connectivity ensures smooth transactions, even in low internet conditions. Vendekin’s Expert Tip: Check the manufacturer’s service offerings. Will they manage restocking? Who handles technical issues? Knowing these details can save you a lot of headaches down the line!

Tech Savvy is the Way to Be The right technology can elevate your vending game. Look for machines that support cashless payments, flexible pricing, and promotional features. With Vendekin’s smart vending machine software, you can manage your machines remotely and leverage data analytics to enhance your business strategies

The Vendekin Advantage

Investing in a smart vending machine is not just about filling it with products; it’s about harnessing data to drive your business forward. With Vendekin, you gain access to crucial insights that can help you fine-tune your offerings and maximize profit margins. Plus, Vendekin assists operators in sourcing products at competitive prices—because who doesn’t love better profit margins? In conclusion, choosing the right vending machine is akin to picking the perfect partner: it requires careful consideration and a bit of strategy. By following these tips and embracing the smart solutions Vendekin offers, you’ll be well on your way to vending success! So, are you ready to take your business to new heights? Your vending adventure awaits! Learn More:

[collymore]

It's our culture say the scum with none or any notion of what the word really means!

By Stanley Collymore

In this bull running and similarly other equally barbaric animal abuse cases, undoubtedly tradition and culture are vile terms used by the clearly poorly educated and also totally ignorant to excuse their horrific acts. Traditionally, Cordoba was truly, the very unquestionable heart, of the Islamic civilization obviously located on the Iberian Peninsula and clearly many towns, and several villages in Spain too, with their Islamic history. Those originally that evidently built these towns and general locations were well known as and obviously crucially similarly also, thoroughly well respected, as quite peaceful individuals. Islam itself, evidently means peace and, therefore, the baiting and distinctively barbaric murder of animals for supposed entertainment is obviously quite undoubtedly distinctly evidently forbidden! Which, undoubtedly, means that these clearly evilly, toxically verminous, scum are, at best, simply selective about history; and a bogus heritage!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 7 August 2024.

Author's Remarks: It never fails to amaze me, even though I'm fully cognizant of the truth, of all these very intellectually challenged, lowlife scum, who are clearly always very quick to jump on the cultural and traditional bandwagon scam, in effect have no actual authentic links to those identities they obviously very vaingloriously like to claim as indigenously their own, and in the case of the UK and actually specifically England proseltyse as crucially theirs. Classic cases being Boris Kamal, aka Johnson; Tom Bauer aka Bower, Nigel Farage, and equally Tom Robinson, with his multiple surnames - just a brief sample who like to clearly delude not only themselves that they are irrefutably unquestionably, distinctively evidently more English/British than even Stonehenge and in that vein swindle all the gullible thickos that believe them, when they are no more truly, authentic British/English/Scottish/Welsh than I am, essentially an Eskimo. No offence at all to those indigenous Eskimos on my part.

And the clowns in Spain with their evidently likeminded barbarism fall squarely into the same category. And yet they all have the gall to effectively specifically criticize Auschwitz, Dachau, and Belsen Bergen etc. What's the basic difference between the aforementioned and bull baiting, bull fighting and other barbaric- treatments of defenceless animals for clearly sick human so-called entertainment?

[roybrigance]

Why Cryptocurrency Is a Smart Investment Option

Ever wondered why so many people are flocking to cryptocurrency? Maybe it's the allure of being part of something futuristic, or perhaps it's the stories of those striking it rich overnight. But here, let's break it down beyond the hype. When we think about bitcoin synergy, it's not just about jumping on a bandwagon; it's about recognizing the potential of a fundamentally transformative technology.

Why is cryptocurrency a good investment? Start with the basics. Decentralized cryptocurrencies include Bitcoin. They're not regulated by a government or financial institution. Like having a bank in your pocket that no one can touch. Decentralization decreases manipulation risk and allows investors more control than traditional currencies.

Let's discuss returns. Cryptocurrencies are known to be volatile. Prices might quickly rise and fall. But high risk brings high reward. By playing their cards well, cryptocurrency investors have made short-term profits that traditional stock markets rarely equal. If you catch the correct wave, you can ride to the shore, but beware of wipeouts.

It's not just about quick gains. Cryptocurrencies are mainstreaming. Large firms and banks are accepting and investing in cryptocurrencies. This increased acceptance legitimizes and stabilizes the market. Like when independent music hits the charts, it's no longer an underground trend but a mainstream one.

Another issue is security. Blockchain technology powers cryptocurrencies, a digital ledger that is nearly hard to alter without discovery. In an age of digital security, this security aspect makes cryptocurrencies an enticing investment. Think of it as a locked, monitored vault.

Don't forget accessibility. Traditional financial institutions are complicated, but investing in Bitcoin is simple. Trading cryptocurrency is possible anywhere with internet connectivity, including New York and the Andes. It removes obstacles to investment and democratizes finance. Like an all-access pass to a former club.

How about the future? Blockchain—the technology behind cryptocurrencies—is constantly evolving and expanding. Blockchain could transform healthcare, finance, and other industries. Today's bitcoin investment may be like early 2000s internet investments. Consider what it could become, not just what it is.

Remember that investing in Bitcoin is not about following a trend. Understanding and trusting technology is key. Each bitcoin investment is a vote of faith in a more transparent and equitable financial future. Are you ready to reconsider your portfolio beyond stocks and bonds to include digital assets? We should embrace the new yet proceed cautiously, like smart investors.

[esglatestmarketnews]

How ESG Factors Drive Sustainable Growth in the Online Grocery Sector

Grocery CEOs, consumers and grocers envisage online shopping as the next big thing, spurred by technological advancements and greater convenience. The COVID-19 onslaught was partly attributed to online grocery flooding the market. While leading players and startups jumped on the bandwagon, ESG watchdogs were wary of the sustainable impact the industry would have on the planet. Stakeholders are expected to harness gender equality, fair wages, waste reduction, responsible sourcing of farm produce and sound corporate governance. 

The ease of browsing, getting items ticked off and quick delivery have been a revelation—a delivery service delivering to multiple homes has negated the need to drive to the store. More than 17 million metric tons of CO2 pollution are attributed to weekly household trips to the grocery store, a report cited by the U.S. EPA claimed. Incumbent players have furthered investments in electric vehicles (EVs) to offset greenhouse gas emissions. In April 2022, India-based Swiggy, a food delivery company, joined forces with EVIFY to enable grocery and food delivery through EVs in Surat, Gujarat. 

Industry leaders are likely to emphasize upstream transportation (farm-to-retail) and foster last-mile transportation—pushing for deliveries and offsetting personal trips. Centralized grocery delivery services and fulfillment centers have brought a paradigm shift in minimizing GHG emissions and food loss. State-of-the-art technologies, including predictive analytics, can provide the silver bullet to prevent pilferage and streamline sourcing. Besides, boosting access to affordable and high-quality fresh food, along with the focus on diversity, integrity and transparency, will remain instrumental for a circular economy.  Is your business one of participants to the Online Grocery Industry? Contact us for focused consultation around ESG Investing, and help you build sustainable business practices

Kroger and BigBasket Invest in Climate Strategy for a Sustainable Future

The online retail boom and an emphasis on speed and user experience—instant delivery—have disrupted e-commerce business models. Brands with sustainability strategies appeared resilient during the COVID-19 outbreak, banking on online shopping to conserve raw materials and minimize GHG emissions. Kroger is poised to establish a new Scope 3 goal for supply chain emissions reduction in line with its Science Based Targets initiative (SBTi) commitment. The American retail giant has set 2030 sustainable packaging goals, such as using 100% recyclable, reusable and/or compostable packaging. 

Amidst emerging climate risks and opportunities, Kroger inferred using infrared refrigerant leak-detection technology in 2,000 stores. Meanwhile, in 2021, Bigbasket, a TATA Enterprise-owned online grocery retailer, teamed up with New Leaf Dynamic to install a biomass-powered chiller that can save 186 tons of CO2 annually. The Indian giant cited in its Green Report 2022 that it produced 5,457,000 kWh of solar power (reducing 1,670 tons of GHG emissions) in 2022 and 5,458 electric delivery vehicles helped minimize 7012 tons of CO2 emissions during the period. 

Amazon Fresh Navigates Changing Social Landscape 

Amidst rampant layoffs and the prevalence of workplace injuries, grocery warehouses and fulfillment centers have prioritized the social pillar. In January 2023, Amazon announced over 18,000 job cuts, denting workers across industry verticals, including grocery stores. People employed as supply chain managers, program managers, software engineers and store designers bore the brunt in online grocery delivery and fresh stores businesses. That said, the American behemoth inferred in May 2023 that it had poured CDN 25 billion since 2010 in its Canadian operations, including job creation and establishment of data centers and fulfillment centers. In September 2021, the U.S. giant committed USD 1.2 billion to offer 300,000 employees education and skills training programs till 2025. 

Incumbent players have upped investments to make the workplace safer and foster a healthy environment. Amazon has a team of health coordinators, physiotherapists and advisors. The occupational doctors perform medical checks and report trends in major risk areas. 

The U.S. e-commerce company has augmented diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts to underscore its sustainability quotient. In 2021, it committed to a 30% rise year over year in hiring U.S. black employees in level 4 through level 7 from the preceding year’s hiring. The multinational company warrants 100% of employees to take inclusion training. 

Governance Key for Relentless Sustainable Goals of Rakuten and Walmart

Sound corporate behavior is second to none for an agile business process and an inclusive global system that complements ethical business practices. Rakuten creates a list of ESG themes with the assistance of external experts and refers to the UN Sustainable Development Goals and Sustainability Accounting Standards Board (SASB) Materiality Map.

The Japanese company has appointed Chief Compliance Officer (CCO) to undergird compliance management. It has banked on a risk-based approach to define high-risk issues and implement measures, such as prevention of money laundering and terrorist financing; prohibition of bribery and corruption; and adherence to competition, antitrust and other related laws. 

Rakuten has propelled board diversity—outside directors account for 58.3% of the BoD, while 25% are foreign directors. Meanwhile, Walmart expects Board members to disclose their race/ethnicity and gender annually. Its board had 27% women and 18% directors who are racially/ethnically diverse (as of April 2023). 

Millennials and Gen Z want the e-commerce sector to foster social contributions, operate in a responsible supply chain and bolster transparency. ESG reporting could be pronounced, prompting online incumbents to further their investments in sustainability. Grand View Research anticipates the global online grocery market size to depict upward growth through 2030. Investments in the circular economy can create momentum and be a differentiating factor in an ever-growing competition in the online grocery business. 

Related Reports:

Real-time Payments Industry ESG: https://astra.grandviewresearch.com/real-time-payments-industry-esg-outlook

Digital Payments Industry ESG: https://astra.grandviewresearch.com/digital-payments-industry-esg-outlook

Business Process Outsourcing Industry ESG: https://astra.grandviewresearch.com/business-process-outsourcing-industry-esg-outlook

About Astra – ESG Solutions by Grand View Research

Astra is the Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) arm of Grand View Research Inc. - a global market research publishing & management consulting firm.

Astra offers comprehensive ESG thematic assessment & scores across diverse impact & socially responsible investment topics, including both public and private companies along with intuitive dashboards. Our ESG solutions are powered by robust fundamental & alternative information. Astra specializes in consulting services that equip corporates and the investment community with the in-depth ESG research and actionable insight they need to support their bottom lines and their values. We have supported our clients across diverse ESG consulting projects & advisory services, including climate strategies & assessment, ESG benchmarking, stakeholder engagement programs, active ownership, developing ESG investment strategies, ESG data services, build corporate sustainability reports. Astra team includes a pool of industry experts and ESG enthusiasts who possess extensive end-end ESG research and consulting experience at a global level.

For more ESG Thematic reports, please visit Astra ESG Solutions, powered by Grand View Research

[the-blind-one-speaks]

Aight I’ve been seeing too many purring vampire tropes not to jump on the bandwagon. I love it too much. Scary murder death lad just melting…. Mmmmm…. And some feral vampire, that makes all these little sounds humans can’t make to communicate? Ooh yes. Loving it.

…………

The creature was huddled into the farthest corner of the cell, pressed against the wall until it looked like they were trying to melt into the stone. From what Hunter could see if it’s face beyond the muzzle and beneath the filthy, matted hair, it’s eyes were wide, glazed with pain and blown wide with terror.

The werewolf crossed his shaggy arms over his torso, eyeing it speculatively. “This is the basilica haunt?”

The villager at his side nodded, careful not to make eye contact with the towering soldier. “Yes, sir. We reported it as soon as we knew it was wanted, sir.”

Hunter slid him a glance, the gold of his eyes dancing with green flecks that caught the torchlight and seemed to glow. Not that the villager noticed, of course. He was too used to the whole “never look death in the face” ideology. Wise of him.

“Once you knew it was wanted — not when you first caught sight of it?” He gave the man no time to formulate a stuttered reply. With a frown, he cocked his head, taking in the story written within the cell and its occupant. He hardly needed the intimidating middling form he’d chosen for this venture to smell the full extent of what had been done here. The cell was rank. He wrinkled his muzzle in distaste, baring his silver fangs.

“Yeesh, you’ve had this thing down here for weeks, haven’t you?” The creature flinched and scrambled to lower itself to the floor, shivering. The longer he stood here, studying it, the more that Hunter felt his emotions curl up into the cold center that had once rested where most men had a heart. This was an all-too familiar sight, once. He had to remind himself that he was better than that, now, that he didn’t take joy in the blood-spattered walls and the quivering heap in the corner. Still, the smell of pain and fear was intoxicating, and he felt his lips twitching into a instinctive smile at the strength of it.

“How did you catch the blood-sucker, anyway?”

“It was hibernating, sir,” the man’s voice was trembling. Fear prickled, tangy, under his sweat. It was nothing compared to the waves of terror rolling off the creature, though. Even without a heart to beat, Hunter could hear it panting rapidly behind its muzzle. Those lungs heaved and struggled, unused to the exertion. He flicked his ears, dismissing the information. It was unnecessary, as was the man’s explanation. He was half-listening, of course, but if the creature had been hibernating it would have been child’s play to catch.

“How many of your people did it harm?” He interrupted. The man faltered for a minute. In the growing silence, Hunter felt rather than saw the sudden unease. The villager’s eyebrows drew together. Hunter felt himself relax, his muscles loosening from their rigid posture to one more suited for quick movement.

“Harm, sir?”

“How many of your people did it drain before you captured it?” He left out the torture part. That was obvious enough from the state the cell was in, and the squirming, whimpering thing on the floor. He could smell ashes, too, and it did not escape his notice that there was a skylight that could only be reached from the outside. Where the creature was huddled would be in direct sunlight if the blanket was removed. He knew that was agony for such creatures. There was a reason most of them had ebony skin, and it was not because they cherished the sun’s loving rays. No, these were creatures of the night, and he welcomed the challenge they presented when he was sent on assignment to hunt one down. Of all the things in the known world, they were the closest he had to an equal. Aside from dragons, anyway, but he wasn’t fool enough to tangle with them.

“None, sir.”

In the silence that followed, Hunter could hear the faint, latent beat of a third heart. He blinked away his surprise. The creature had a heart. That was… unnerving.

“How man of your people were attacked?”

“None, sir.”

“None at all?”

The slight hesitation in the man’s words were telling. “We captured it on sight, sir, before it had the chance to do any injury.” The man’s voice was defensive. He tried to keep his tone even, but all that Hunter could do was laugh. He tipped back his shaggy head and let his mirth bubble out of him, the sound anything but humorous. He shook his head, flicking his ears a couple times in an attempt to fling away the urge to tear the man in half just for the sake of feeling something rip apart between his bare hands.

“The capture I could excuse. The torture?” He drew his lips back, baring his teeth in a furious parody of a mocking grin. Flinging his broad hand at the cell, he allowed his claws to flex as they swung past the man’s face. “This? With revenge as a motive, I could understand.”

There was a whimper from the corner of the cell. Hunter ignored it, eyes locked in the man’s face. The human was white with fear, flabby jowls trembling, jaw hanging half-open as excuses died in his tongue. Ignoring the foul smell of the man’s breath, Hunter leaned in closer. He snarled. “How dare it exist as anything but a human. That is a crime, indeed.” He felt the emotions in his breast coil hot and tight, rushing to fill his veins with warmth. He chuckled without any humor. “What a shame. I had just gotten used to existing myself, actually. Care to have a go?”

The man turned and fled. Hunter bit back the leap that was quivering at his legs, forcing down the instinct to pounce. With a long, rattling exhalation of breath, he turned to gaze into the cell. “Fucking monsters,” he muttered. “Of course it had to be my assignment. Brianna’ll be lucky if I don’t slaughter the whole village.” He shook himself roughly, like a dog ridding itself of water. When the last tremor had run down to the tip of his tail, he dropped his weight forward and did it again, perched on all fours. He felt much calmer, some of the rampant energy pulsing through him expelled. He had more important things to do than deal with disgusting humans. He always had more important things to do.

He padded into the cell.

…..

Sterling watched the werewolf prowl closer through wide eyes. He had heard the stories. He’d been sleeping for maybe a hundred years, but he had still heard the stories. Hunter was even older than his sire, and everyone who wanted to live back then had whispered in the dark about the young werewolf who had risen up and slaughtered his own pack. He’d even destroyed the lake, determined to be the only and thus strongest of his kind. No more lake to swim across, no more way to be bound by the curse, no more werewolves who could possible challenge him.

Sterling had been awake for this hell of two and a half weeks, and now the werewolf was coming for him, and all he knew how to do was sob.

His sire was dead. He wouldn’t have slept so long if he had still been alive. Sterling depended on him for safety, to come and awaken him when it was safe for him to come out and stretch his limbs, savor the moonlight for a while. Sterling only knew how long he’d slept because he could recognize the language the humans spoke — could recognize it, but not speak or understand it. The dialect was far too strange, the grammar mangled, the pronunciation sloppy. He’d been around for enough language shifts to understand the time it took for it to change so much. His sire was gone. Sterling was alone. He had nothing left and no one to protect him. No one was coming for him. He had wallowed in pain and just wanted it to end.

At least, he thought with some hysteria through the dull ache and sharp pains that had become his body, he would know what it was like to be bitten himself. The werewolf would use his fangs, when he decided to finish him off — they were silver, part of the curse; only another werewolf could do lethal damage to one of his own kind. The werewolf would have no problem with executing him. He couldn’t resist. He was just happy that at least the werewolf was experienced enough with killing to know what he was doing. He might die relatively painlessly, if the werewolf wasn’t bored and felt like it. He hoped he wasn’t bored. He’d been entertaining the villagers for far too long.

He shut his eyes, listening and praying to whatever deities would listen that he would die quickly.

The click of claw against stone drew closer, closer… and stopped. A ruffle of warm air brushed his face, ghosting across his eyelids. He whined at the breath.

“You really do have a heart, don’t you?” The wolf’s tone was thoughtful. Sterling cringed away, breath stuttering. No. No nononono. He couldn’t be interesting, he couldn’t be intriguing — all he wanted was to be dead! “That can’t be right.”

Sterling squinted at him through his eyelashes, hot tears prickling. The werewolf was squatting over him, palms resting against the stone floor, head cocked. A frown pulled at his muzzle, drawing his lips down and converting his fangs. Sterling looked away.

“You’re rather young, aren’t you?” The tone was soft, softer even than his sire spoke to him, and he was the gentlest person Sterling had ever known. The tears gathered on his eyelashes. The werewolf huffed softly into his face, crouching down further, until he was laying in the floor of the disgusting cell. “No worries, little pup. I won’t harm such an injured cub. I am not the man I once was.”

The tears spilled onto Sterling’s cheeks, hot against his clammy skin. He was exhausted. There wasn’t enough left in him to be terrified. His sire had warned him of this, the wolf’s tendency to play with his prey. Why did he have to toy with Sterling, though? Why must he be so cruel?

Sterling hissed weakly at him, the force of expelling the sound rattling his broken ribs. He coughed behind the muzzle and whimpered around the iron bit, scorching his tongue once more. He was lucky it hadn’t burned through, honestly. The werewolf shushed him, dwindling into his man-form. He reached for the muzzle with those disturbingly human hands and Sterling finally knew the mercy of blacking out before the pain began. He hoped never to wake up again.

….

It was warm. He recognized the brush of fur against his cheek and nuzzled into it, sighing. He was floating, wrapped in something firm and soft, tucked against a radiant heat and the sound of a steady, pounding heart. He kneaded his broken hands deeper into the fur, letting himself drift. Somewhere, high above him, he could hear the gentle sound of the moon singing its lunar lullaby.

Cold air, fresh with the scent of pine, stung his lungs. He coughed weakly, drinking it in, listening for the sound of his sire’s dark wings brushing together as he came in to land. His back prickled and ached where his own wings had never grown in, but he did not hear his sire returning. He clicked and chirped weakly, sending a question into the cool night.

A hand gently tangled in his hair, scritching at his scalp. He muttered in the back of his throat, not wanting to awaken from the dream. It was broad and rough, lacking the slender sophistication of his sire’s hands, but he pushed weakly into it, chasing the sensation of being coddled, of being held. When the touch cupped his skull in its palm, cradling his head, he allowed a pleased chirp to echo out of him. The sound was interrupted by a rumbling purr, his thin chest loosening with the vibrations as he melted into the touch.

He was completely enveloped, held carefully in a way that soothed some of his hurts while irritating others, but all he knew was that he never wanted it to end. Was this the embrace of death? Why hadn’t he tried dying sooner, if that was the case?

“Poor little pup,” a gruff voice muttered, the tone obviously unused to speaking with such softness. “Little cub, I will take care of you now. You rest up, pup.” The hand holding the back of his head began to slowly massage at his scalp again. He purred louder, nuzzling into the embrace. A sigh rumbled out of him, quavering with the force of his contended purr. He clicked and muttered in the back of his throat, kneading his hands in the warm, soft fur that surrounded him.

His sire would be back soon, he was sure of it. In the meantime, this friend he must have sent was being kind and gentle. He would savor it while he could, for as long as the dream lasted.

After all, some part of him knew he was not to wake up again.

He purred louder and drowned out that voice. It was not long before he fell asleep, cradled in the arms of a stranger and the song of the moon.

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[welllpthisishappening]

So, Thanks to TOPBL I watched my first Hockey game, any tips for new hockey fans?

Oh hai there, anon! First off: I am so psyched to hear you watched your first hockey game! Let my legacy on this site be somehow convincing people to watch hockey because they read a bunch of words about a fake team with questionable friendship-type boundaries. Second: as far as tips for a new hockey fan, I am equally psyched you'd come here to ask for such a thing.

And, like, my best advice is to be a fan. I sound like I'm brushing you off, but I promise I'm not. Jump into this. Right into the metaphorical deep end. Made all the more metaphorical since the water in this sport is notably frozen. Pick a team (the Rangers, pick the Rangers) or randomly decide to assign all your player-focused love to an equally random player (this is almost entirely how I decided to love Chris Kreider) and get into it. I thoroughly endorse the concept of bandwagon fans. Ride that bandwagon, please. Pick the last Stanly Cup champion because they just won! Or the exact opposite! Find what you love about this ridiculous sport and then love it because there really is a lot to love, including but not limited to:

Dumb hockey boys. Seriously they're so dumb. Like, those are professional athletes in that gif. Every member of the New York Rangers is almost painfully in love with the others.

Ridiculous team traditions. And that's not just in the NHL, either! I'm not a huge college hockey watcher, but they're there too.

An insanely fast pace. This game is so quick and things can happen suddenly and that is (in my not so humble opinion) the absolute best part.

It has nothing to do with how fast Chris Kreider skates. Nothing at all. No. Nope.

Rivalries. The other day, the whiteboard in our kitchen read: FUCK THE ISLANDERS. Just 'cuz.

I know some people aren't super into the Winter Classic and Stadium Series games, but...I am, so it's going on the list. They play outside! Sometimes in the snow!

Rules that occasionaly won't make sense and will infuriate you! This is also going on the list because like what is a game if I don't yell THAT'S A GODDAMN PENALTY, PUT YOUR HAND UP ALREADY at the ref. (Bonus points when the ref has put his hand up and I just haven't noticed.)

Hockey is weird, anon. Like, seriously. Stop and think about it and it's so weird. This is a sport with sticks and a tiny little piece of rubber that gets hit around with those sticks. And, like, knife shoes that people wear on frozen water. It's also not all sunshine and good things and I will be the first to admit that hockey needs to fix a lot of things about itself. A lot. And that's not always great. It does sometimes make it difficult to root for the NHL as a league. Still, I do think it's possible to keep rooting for the sport itself and the players and all the good things that make it my absolute favorite thing.

So, enjoy it, anon. Root for ridiculous things and random people and yell at the TV. It's more fun that way.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I'm glad someone else realises how shitty Clark treated Kara, and how that must have absolutely sucked. Like, he left her with the first people he could think of, and from what we've seen, didnt even call or visit her for years because 'it was too dangerous' yeah right. Fuck off Clark, you're a piece of shit. Kara, a literal teenager, was willing to take and raise a baby on a new planet and a grown ass man couldnt be bothered taking in a traumatized teenager. Like, makes me so mad. Like so mad.

Well, I personally don’t mind that Clark recognized that he wasn’t capable of raising a teenager, and tried to give Kara a better life, but his distance after is what bugs me. If it was bad enough that Alex is the one who recognizes the abdandonment, that’s saying something. They should definitely do more to rebuild their relationship, or else do more to highlight the deficiencies in how he handled the situation. Especially if he’s going to keep popping up in all these crossovers and whatnot. 

I would love to see Kara’s sacrifice and hardship acknowledged. In the same way they sat down and talked about sacrificing her relationship with Mon-el in S2, they should sit down and talk about how Clark is essentially more human than kryptonian, while Kara is more kryptonian than human (or at least equal parts), and how it affects how they behave and make decisions.

It’s one of the reasons I was a little surprised that Kara was so quick to jump on the “no kryptonite ever” bandwagon. I mean, besides the fact that Alex had kryptonite armor in S1, I kind of expected for it to be explicated that Clark is offended by the idea of kryptonite because he sees himself as human-with-powers, whereas Kara is more okay with it because she’s not human, and would be significantly more difficult to contain or repel if she ever lost control.

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift: ‘I was literally about to break’

By: Laura Snapes for The Guardian Date: August 24th 2019

Taylor Swift’s Nashville apartment is an Etsy fever dream, a 365-days-a-year Christmas shop, pure teenage girl id. You enter through a vestibule clad in blue velvet and covered in gilt frames bursting with fake flowers. The ceiling is painted like the night sky. Above a koi pond in the living area, a narrow staircase spirals six feet up towards a giant, pillow-lagged birdcage that probably has the best view in the city. Later, Swift will tell me she needs metaphors “to understand anything that happens to me”, and the birdcage defies you not to interpret it as a pointed comment on the contradictions of stardom.

Swift, wearing pale jeans and dip-dyed shirt, her sandy hair tied in a blue scrunchie, leads the way up the staircase to show me the view. The decor hasn’t changed since she bought this place in 2009, when she was 19. “All of these high rises are new since then,” she says, gesturing at the squat glass structures and cranes. Meanwhile her oven is still covered in stickers, more teenage diary than adult appliance.

Now 29, she has spent much of the past three years living quietly in London with her boyfriend, actor Joe Alwyn, making the penthouse a kind of time capsule, a monument to youthful naivety given an unlimited budget – the years when she sang about Romeo and Juliet and wore ballgowns to awards shows; before she moved to New York and honed her slick, self-mythologising pop.

It is mid-August. This is Swift’s first UK interview in more than three years, and she seems nervous: neither presidential nor goofy (her usual defaults), but quick with a tongue-out “ugh” of regret or frustration as she picks at her glittery purple nails. We climb down from the birdcage to sit by the pond, and when the conversation turns to 2016, the year the wheels came off for her, Swift stiffens as if driving over a mile of speed bumps. After a series of bruising public spats (with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj) in 2015, there was a high-profile standoff with Kanye West. The news that she was in a relationship with actor Tom Hiddleston, which leaked soon after, was widely dismissed as a diversionary tactic. Meanwhile, Swift went to court to prosecute a sexual assault claim, and faced a furious backlash when she failed to endorse a candidate in the 2016 presidential election, allowing the alt-right to adopt her as their “Aryan princess”.

Her critics assumed she cared only about the bottom line. The reality, Swift says, is that she was totally broken. “Every domino fell,” she says bitterly. “It became really terrifying for anyone to even know where I was. And I felt completely incapable of doing or saying anything publicly, at all. Even about my music. I always said I wouldn’t talk about what was happening personally, because that was a personal time.” She won’t get into specifics. “I just need some things that are mine,” she despairs. “Just some things.”

A year later, in 2017, Swift released her album Reputation, half high-camp heel turn, drawing on hip-hop and vaudeville (the brilliantly hammy Look What You Made Me Do), half stunned appreciation that her nascent relationship with Alwyn had weathered the storm (the soft, sensual pop of songs Delicate and Dress).

Her new album, Lover, her seventh, was released yesterday. It’s much lighter than Reputation: Swift likens writing it to feeling like “I could take a full deep breath again”. Much of it is about Alwyn: the Galway Girl-ish track London Boy lists their favourite city haunts and her newfound appreciation of watching rugby in the pub with his uni mates; on the ruminative Afterglow, she asks him to forgive her anxious tendency to assume the worst.

While she has always written about relationships, they were either teenage fantasy or a postmortem on a high-profile breakup, with exes such as Jake Gyllenhaal and Harry Styles. But she and Alwyn have seldom been pictured together, and their relationship is the only other thing she won’t talk about. “I’ve learned that if I do, people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she says, laughing after I attempt a stealthy angle. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it – but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”

Instead, she has swapped personal disclosure for activism. Last August, Swift broke her political silence to endorse Democratic Tennessee candidate Phil Bredesen in the November 2018 senate race. Vote.org reported an unprecedented spike in voting registration after Swift’s Instagram post, while Donald Trump responded that he liked her music “about 25% less now”.

Meanwhile, her recent single You Need To Calm Down admonished homophobes and namechecked US LGBTQ rights organisation Glaad (which then saw increased donations). Swift filled her video with cameos from queer stars such as Ellen DeGeneres and Queen singer Adam Lambert, and capped it with a call to sign her petition in support of the Equality Act, which if passed would prohibit gender- and sexuality-based discrimination in the US. A video of Polish LGBTQ fans miming the track in defiance of their government’s homophobic agenda went viral. But Swift was accused of “queerbaiting” and bandwagon-jumping. You can see how she might find it hard to work out what, exactly, people want from her.

***

It was girlhood that made Swift a multimillionaire. When country music’s gatekeepers swore that housewives were the only women interested in the genre, she proved them wrong. Her self-titled debut marked the longest stay on the Billboard 200 by any album released in the decade. A potentially cloying image – corkscrew curls, lyrics thick on “daddy” and down-home values – were undercut by the fact she was evidently, endearingly, a bit of a freak, an unusual combination of intensity and artlessness. Also, she was really, really good at what she did, and not just for a teenager: her entirely self-written third album, 2010’s Speak Now, is unmatched in its devastatingly withering dismissals of awful men.

As a teenager, Swift was obsessed with VH1’s Behind The Music, the series devoted to the rise and fall of great musicians. She would forensically rewatch episodes, trying to pinpoint the moment a career went wrong. I ask her to imagine she’s watching the episode about herself and do the same thing: where was her misstep? “Oh my God,” she says, drawing a deep breath and letting her lips vibrate as she exhales. “I mean, that’s so depressing!” She thinks back and tries to deflect. “What I remember is that [the show] was always like, ‘Then we started fighting in the tour bus and then the drummer quit and the guitarist was like, “You’re not paying me enough.”’’’

But that’s not what she used to say. In interviews into her early 20s, Swift often observed that an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness, as if repeating the fact would work like an insurance against succumbing to the same fate. But did she make that mistake herself? She squeezes her nose and blows to clear a ringing in her ears before answering. “I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realise how you’re being perceived,” she says. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalysing of everything makes it feel really intense.”

She describes the way she burned bridges in 2016 as a kind of obliviousness. “I didn’t realise it was like a classic overthrow of someone in power – where you didn’t realise the whispers behind your back, you didn’t realise the chain reaction of events that was going to make everything fall apart at the exact, perfect time for it to fall apart.”

Here’s that chain reaction in full. With her 2014 album 1989 (the year she was born), Swift transcended country stardom, becoming as ubiquitous as Beyoncé. For the first time she vocally embraced feminism, something she had rejected in her teens; but, after a while, it seemed to amount to not much more than a lot of pictures of her hanging out with her “squad”, a bevy of supermodels, musicians and Lena Dunham. The squad very much did not include her former friend Katy Perry, whom Swift targeted in her song Bad Blood, as part of what seemed like a painfully overblown dispute about some backing dancers. Then, when Nicki Minaj tweeted that MTV’s 2015 Video Music awards had rewarded white women at the expense of women of colour, multiple-nominee Swift took it personally, responding: “Maybe one of the men took your slot.” For someone prone to talking about the haters, she quickly became her own worst enemy.

Her old adversary Kanye West resurfaced in February 2016. In 2009, West had invaded Swift’s stage at the MTV VMAs to protest against her victory over Beyoncé in the female video of the year category. It remains the peak of interest in Swift on Google Trends, and the conflict between them has become such a cornerstone of celebrity journalism that it’s hard to remember it lay dormant for nearly seven years – until West released his song Famous. “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex,” he rapped. “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The video depicted a Swift mannequin naked in bed with men including Trump.

Swift loudly condemned both; although she had discussed the track with West, she said she had never agreed to the “bitch” lyric or the video. West’s wife, Kim Kardashian, released a heavily edited clip that showed Swift at least agreeing to the “sex” line on the phone with West, if not the “bitch” part. Swift pleaded the technicality, but it made no difference: when Kardashian went on Twitter to describe her as a snake, the comparison stuck and the singer found herself very publicly “cancelled” – the incident taken as “proof” of Swift’s insincerity. So she went away.

Swift says she stopped trying to explain herself, even though she “definitely” could have. As she worked on Reputation, she was also writing “a think-piece a day that I knew I would never publish: the stuff I would say, and the different facets of the situation that nobody knew”. If she could exonerate herself, why didn’t she? She leans forward. “Here’s why,” she says conspiratorially. “Because when people are in a hate frenzy and they find something to mutually hate together, it bonds them. And anything you say is in an echo chamber of mockery.”

She compares that year to being hit by a tidal wave. “You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you,” she says. “Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!” She’s on a roll. “Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted? Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”

After the incident with Minaj, her critics started pointing out a narrative of “white victimhood” in Swift’s career. Speaking slowly and carefully, she says she came to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”

She also accepts some responsibility for her overexposure, and for some of the tabloid drama. If she didn’t wish a friend happy birthday on Instagram, there would be reports about severed friendships, even if they had celebrated together. “Because we didn’t post about it, it didn’t happen – and I realised I had done that,” she says. “I created an expectation that everything in my life that happened, people would see.”

But she also says she couldn’t win. “I’m kinda used to being gaslit by now,” she drawls wearily. “And I think it happens to women so often that, as we get older and see how the world works, we’re able to see through what is gaslighting. So I’m able to look at 1989 and go – KITTIES!” She breaks off as an assistant walks in with Swift’s three beloved cats, stars of her Instagram feed, back from the vet before they fly to England this week. Benjamin, Olivia and Meredith haughtily circle our feet (they are scared of the koi) as Swift resumes her train of thought, back to the release of 1989 and the subsequent fallout. “Oh my God, they were mad at me for smiling a lot and quote-unquote acting fake. And then they were mad at me that I was upset and bitter and kicking back.” The rules kept changing.

***

Swift’s new album comes with printed excerpts from her diaries. On 29 August 2016, she wrote in her girlish, bubble writing: “This summer is the apocalypse.” As the incident with West and Kardashian unfolded, she was preparing for her court case against radio DJ David Mueller, who was fired in 2013 after Swift reported him for putting his hand up her dress at a meet-and–greet event. He sued her for defamation; she countersued for sexual assault.

“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” Swift says now, talking at full pelt. “And if we – as anyone else in the world, but specifically women – react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”

In summer 2016 she was in legal depositions, practising her testimony. “You’re supposed to be really polite to everyone,” she says. But by the time she got to court in August 2017, “something snapped, I think”. She laughs. Her testimony was sharp and uncompromising. She refused to allow Mueller’s lawyers to blame her or her security guards; when asked if she could see the incident, Swift said no, because “my ass is in the back of my body”. It was a brilliant, rude defence.

“You’re supposed to behave yourself in court and say ‘rear end’,” she says with mock politesse. “The other lawyer was saying, ‘When did he touch your backside?’ And I was like, ‘ASS! Call it what it is!’” She claps between each word. But despite the acclaim for her testimony and eventual victory (she asked for one symbolic dollar), she still felt belittled. It was two months prior to the beginning of the #MeToo movement. “Even this case was literally twisted so hard that people were calling it the ‘butt-grab case’. They were saying I sued him because there’s this narrative that I want to sue everyone. That was one of the reasons why the summer was the apocalypse.”

She never wanted the assault to be made public. Have there been other instances she has dealt with privately? “Actually, no,” she says soberly. “I’m really lucky that it hadn’t happened to me before. But that was one of the reasons it was so traumatising. I just didn’t know that could happen. It was really brazen, in front of seven people.” She has since had security cameras installed at every meet-and-greet she does, deliberately pointed at her lower half. “If something happens again, we can prove it with video footage from every angle,” she says.

The allegations about Harvey Weinstein came out soon after she won her case. The film producer had asked her to write a song for the romantic comedy One Chance, which earned her second Golden Globe nomination. Weinstein also got her a supporting role in the 2014 sci-fi movie The Giver, and attended the launch party for 1989. But she says they were never alone together.

“He’d call my management and be like, ‘Does she have a song for this film?’ And I’d be like, ‘Here it is,’” she says dispassionately. “And then I’d be at the Golden Globes. I absolutely never hung out. And I would get a vibe – I would never vouch for him. I believe women who come forward, I believe victims who come forward, I believe men who come forward.” Swift inhales, flustered. She says Weinstein never propositioned her. “If you listen to the stories, he picked people who were vulnerable, in his opinion. It seemed like it was a power thing. So, to me, that doesn’t say anything – that I wasn’t in that situation.”

Meanwhile, Donald Trump was more than nine months into his presidency, and still Swift had not taken a position. But the idea that a pop star could ever have impeded his path to the White House seemed increasingly naive. In hindsight, the demand that Swift speak up looks less about politics and more about her identity (white, rich, powerful) and a moralistic need for her to redeem herself – as if nobody else had ever acted on a vindictive instinct, or blundered publicly.

But she resisted what might have been an easy return to public favour. Although Reputation contained softer love songs, it was better known for its brittle, vengeful side (see This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things). She describes that side of the album now as a “bit of a persona”, and its hip-hop-influenced production as “a complete defence mechanism”. Personally, I thought she had never been more relatable, trashing the contract of pious relatability that traps young women in the public eye.

***

It was the assault trial, and watching the rights of LGBTQ friends be eroded, that finally politicised her, Swift says. “The things that happen to you in your life are what develop your political opinions. I was living in this Obama eight-year paradise of, you go, you cast your vote, the person you vote for wins, everyone’s happy!” she says. “This whole thing, the last three, four years, it completely blindsided a lot of us, me included.”

She recently said she was “dismayed” when a friend pointed out that her position on gay rights wasn’t obvious (what if she had a gay son, he asked), hence this summer’s course correction with the single You Need To Calm Down (“You’re comin’ at my friends like a missile/Why are you mad?/When you could be GLAAD?”). Didn’t she feel equally dismayed that her politics weren’t clear? “I did,” she insists, “and I hate to admit this, but I felt that I wasn’t educated enough on it. Because I hadn’t actively tried to learn about politics in a way that I felt was necessary for me, making statements that go out to hundreds of millions of people.”

She explains her inner conflict. “I come from country music. The number one thing they absolutely drill into you as a country artist, and you can ask any other country artist this, is ‘Don’t be like the Dixie Chicks!’” In 2003, the Texan country trio denounced the Iraq war, saying they were “ashamed” to share a home state with George W Bush. There was a boycott, and an event where a bulldozer crushed their CDs. “I watched country music snuff that candle out. The most amazing group we had, just because they talked about politics. And they were getting death threats. They were made such an example that basically every country artist that came after that, every label tells you, ‘Just do not get involved, no matter what.’

“And then, you know, if there was a time for me to get involved…” Swift pauses. “The worst part of the timing of what happened in 2016 was I felt completely voiceless. I just felt like, oh God, who would want me? Honestly.” She would otherwise have endorsed Hillary Clinton? “Of course,” she says sincerely. “I just felt completely, ugh, just useless. And maybe even like a hindrance.”

I suggest that, thinking selfishly, her coming out for Clinton might have made people like her. “I wasn’t thinking like that,” she stresses. “I was just trying to protect my mental health – not read the news very much, go cast my vote, tell people to vote. I just knew what I could handle and I knew what I couldn’t. I was literally about to break. For a while.” Did she seek therapy? “That stuff I just really wanna keep personal, if that’s OK,” she says.

She resists blaming anyone else for her political silence. Her emergence as a Democrat came after she left Big Machine, the label she signed to at 15. (They are now at loggerheads after label head Scott Borchetta sold the company, and the rights to Swift’s first six albums, to Kanye West’s manager, Scooter Braun.) Had Borchetta ever advised her against speaking out? She exhales. “It was just me and my life, and also doing a lot of self-reflection about how I did feel really remorseful for not saying anything. I wanted to try and help in any way that I could, the next time I got a chance. I didn’t help, I didn’t feel capable of it – and as soon as I can, I’m going to.”

Swift was once known for throwing extravagant 4 July parties at her Rhode Island mansion. The Instagram posts from these star-studded events – at which guests wore matching stars-and-stripes bikinis and onesies – probably supported a significant chunk of the celebrity news industry GDP. But in 2017, they stopped. “The horror!” wrote Cosmopolitan, citing “reasons that remain a mystery” for their disappearance. It wasn’t “squad” strife or the unavailability of matching cozzies that brought the parties to an end, but Swift’s disillusionment with her country, she says.

There is a smart song about this on the new album – the track that should have been the first single, instead of the cartoonish ME!. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince is a forlorn, gothic ballad in the vein of Lana Del Rey that uses high-school imagery to dismantle American nationalism: “The whole school is rolling fake dice/You play stupid games/You win stupid prizes,” she sings with disdain. “Boys will be boys then/Where are the wise men?”

As an ambitious 11-year-old, she worked out that singing the national anthem at sports games was the quickest way to get in front of a large audience. When did she start feeling conflicted about what America stands for? She gives another emphatic ugh. “It was the fact that all the dirtiest tricks in the book were used and it worked,” she says. “The thing I can’t get over right now is gaslighting the American public into being like” – she adopts a sanctimonious tone – “‘If you hate the president, you hate America.’ We’re a democracy – at least, we’re supposed to be – where you’re allowed to disagree, dissent, debate.” She doesn’t use Trump’s name. “I really think that he thinks this is an autocracy.”

As we speak, Tennessee lawmakers are trying to impose a near-total ban on abortion. Swift has staunchly defended her “Tennessee values” in recent months. What’s her position? “I mean, obviously, I’m pro-choice, and I just can’t believe this is happening,” she says. She looks close to tears. “I can’t believe we’re here. It’s really shocking and awful. And I just wanna do everything I can for 2020. I wanna figure out exactly how I can help, what are the most effective ways to help. ’Cause this is just…” She sighs again. “This is not it.”

***

It is easy to forget that the point of all this is that a teenage Taylor Swiftwanted to write love songs. Nemeses and negativity are now so entrenched in her public persona that it’s hard to know how she can get back to that, though she seems to want to. At the end of Daylight, the new album’s dreamy final song, there’s a spoken-word section: “I want to be defined by the things that I love,” she says as the music fades. “Not the things that I hate, not the things I’m afraid of, the things that haunt me in the middle of the night.” As well as the songs written for Alwyn, there is one for her mother, who recently experienced a cancer relapse: “You make the best of a bad deal/I just pretend it isn’t real,” Swift sings, backed by the Dixie Chicks.

How does writing about her personal life work if she’s setting clearer boundaries? “It actually made me feel more free,” she says. “I’ve always had this habit of never really going into detail about exactly what situation inspired what thing, but even more so now.” This is only half true: in the past, Swift wasn’t shy of a level of detail that invited fans to figure out specific truths about her relationships. And when I tell her that Lover feels a more emotionally guarded album, she bristles. “I know the difference between making art and living your life like a reality star,” she says. “And then even if it’s hard for other people to grasp, my definition is really clear.”

Even so, Swift begins Lover by addressing an adversary, opening with a song called I Forgot That You Existed (“it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference”), presumably aimed at Kanye West, a track that slightly defeats its premise by existing. But it sweeps aside old dramas to confront Swift’s real nemesis, herself. “I never grew up/It’s getting so old,” she laments on The Archer.

She has had to learn not to pre-empt disaster, nor to run from it. Her life has been defined by relationships, friendships and business relationships that started and ended very publicly (though she and Perry are friends again). At the same time, the rules around celebrity engagement have evolved beyond recognition in her 15 years of fame. Rather than trying to adapt to them, she’s now asking herself: “How do you learn to maintain? How do you learn not to have these phantom disasters in your head that you play out, and how do you stop yourself from sabotage – because the panic mechanism in your brain is telling you that something must go wrong.” For her, this is what growing up is. “You can’t just make cut-and-dry decisions in life. A lot of things are a negotiation and a grey area and a dance of how to figure it out.”

And so this time, Swift is sticking around. In December she will turn 30, marking the point after which more than half her life will have been lived in public. She’ll start her new decade with a stronger self-preservationist streak, and a looser grip (as well as a cameo in Cats). “You can’t micromanage life, it turns out,” she says, drily.

When Swift finally answered my question about the moment she would choose in the VH1 Behind The Music episode about herself, the one where her career turned, she said she hoped it wouldn’t focus on her “apocalypse” summer of 2016. “Maybe this is wishful thinking,” she said, “but I’d like to think it would be in a couple of years.” It’s funny to hear her hope that the worst is still to come while sitting in her fairytale living room, the cats pacing: a pragmatist at odds with her romantic monument to teenage dreams. But it sounds something like perspective.

[9or10allgood]

I love Tumblr.  Far more than Facebook, which has become a seething morass of political partisanship, and while I’m all about seething partisanship when it’s discussed by people willing to engage their intellects, I’m less so when “debate” means posting memes and gifs which are, let’s be honest, the electronic equivalent of saying “nanny nanny boo boo”.

Anyway… Tumblr.  You can, to some degree, control your content.  If you are, like I am, mildly (*snort*) obsessed with a certain tall, lanky, Scottish actor, you can find like-minded individuals and follow them and bask in his glory to your heart’s content.  Likewise, you can follow fandoms based on television shows and movies and plays and music… and you get my point.  You’re all here so, of course, you do.

And, if you are interested in things like politics or social issues or the environment or science or all of the above (and more), that content is also readily available on Tumblr.

Generally speaking, I find the folks on Tumblr to be considerably more relaxed and open and accepting than on Facebook.  I attribute that, for the most part, to the members being mostly younger.  I’m a great believer in young people.  The future belongs to them and I am, present circumstances notwithstanding, mostly optimistic about the future. 

I’m a Boomer.  I was born eleven years after the end of WWII. (Good Lord, I feel old!)  There were no twenty-four-hour television or radio stations, and the internet wasn’t even conceived of, even by the most forward thinkers. Doctors still made housecalls as a matter of course.  Milk was still delivered to your door every morning.   The polio vaccine was still being tested.  Putting a man on the moon was a science fiction fantasy.  

As a generation, we “Boomers” were guilty of a lot of things, beginning with not quickly enough shedding some of the baggage from the generation before us. We were still largely segregated and we are paying the price still and we will until - I don’t know how long and that disturbs me more than I can say.  We were too quick to distrust the other - just ask the immigrants that came to these shores during and after the War.  There was a dear older lady in my church when I was in high school.  A kinder, more charitable, more joyful woman you could never hope to meet.  She was a German war bride - met an American soldier and they fell in love and married and he brought her home to his small, south Georgia hometown.  Their first decade was tough - folks were slow to forget and she was sometimes ostracized.  Even when I knew her, people would sometimes refer to her (in lowered tones) as Leroy’s German frau.  

We were abysmal when it came to the environment.  I mean, look at the cars we drove in the sixties and seventies before the oil crisis forced a turn toward economy cars.  Gasoline was $.37 a gallon - and that was hi-test!  What did it matter that my mother’s 1971 Mercury Grand Marquis land yacht only got 11 miles to the gallon?  Gender equality?  Seriously?  Gender Identity?!?!?  How you came out of the womb is what you were.  Period.  And if your family had that special uncle or the aunt with a Very Close Friend, well, it just wasn’t talked about, was it…

On the other hand, there were things we did do.   That social conscience that drives our society today?  You can thank those who loudly and visibly protested the Vietnam War for a lot of it.  Sure, there were anti-war movements always, but the Vietnam War lit a fire that, with the availability of news cameras and microphones and news cycles, burned hot and bright until the last helicopter departed the US Embassy in Saigon on April 30, 1975.  And when the war was over, there were plenty of other things to get riled up about:  the environment, women’s rights, the right to choose, civil rights, gay rights.  Anger over things that are wrong today didn’t just start in the 2000s.  A lot of us - and I mean a lot!  - have been pissed off for a while.

Putting a man on the moon belongs to the generation before the Boomers, obviously, but the drive to continue space exploration - the space shuttle, the probes that are still sailing toward places beyond our solar system, the International Space Station, the Hubble telescope - belong to us.  Medical advances?  Advances in diabetic screening and treatment, the MRI, treatment of HIV/AIDS… Cancer research was largely theoretical until the ‘70s.  The idea of DNA re-sequencing as a therapeutic treatment?  Late ‘70’s.

And as for culture?  My generation embraced the idea of embracing the accoutrements of other cultures.  Clothing, jewelry, hairstyles, music, food… we were all about it.  I see people commenting on “cultural appropriation” as if it’s a bad thing.  We - my generation - considered it to be a tangible form of acceptance.  

(As an aside, I have a dear friend who is battling uterine cancer.  She has lost all of her hair due to chemotherapy.  On one of her “good days”, she and her family took in an Indian (the country) festival and, while she was there, saw an artist creating henna tattoos.  On impulse, she asked the woman to create one for her scalp.  It was a masterpiece, absolutely glorious, and it gave my friend so much of her joy back.  For the first time, she was proud to show herself without a wig or scarf.  I think if I’d heard anyone say anything about “cultural appropriation”, I would have punched them in the mouth.)

My point to this ramble is this.  Lately, I’ve been seeing anti-Boomer things on Tumblr.  Boomers are rude.  Boomers are backward.  Boomers are outdated.  And while I get that it’s just a thing for generations to complain about each other, it’s the absolutism that I see that bothers me.  When I was young and dealing with my parents’ generation, I didn’t consign the whole kit and kaboodle to the Dark Ages.  And, from my viewpoint as an older person, I don’t heave a great sigh and clutch my pearls over the entirety of the Gen X'ers, the Millennials (raised one!), or the Gen Z'ers.  I may get annoyed with one or two individuals and have a sudden urge to shake my cane and yell “get off my lawn, whippersnapper!” but I manage to contain myself.  (There was the young man in the electronics department at WalMart who, in his most condescending manner, asked me if I knew what a USB port was.   I wanted to tell him that I’d been working with computers since before his father first bought his mother a malt at the chocolate shoppe.  Instead, I just gave him The Look™ and he mumbled an apology.)

Absolutism about anything is corrosive.  I mean, think about it.  It lies at the heart of so many of the evils that are tearing at us now.  It feeds the desire to hate all of the “other” because of a crime perpetrated by one or a few.  Wars result from this kind of thinking.  Down through history, you see it.  And it’s so much more easily spread now with social media.  Again, I would abandon FB altogether - except that it’s how I keep up with the folks back home - because it’s become a political, partisan, largely unintelligent cesspool.  All because those on the Left believe that those on the Right are the Minions of Satan and those on the Right think that those on the Left are Bloodsucking Snowflakes.  And, of course, they don’t all think that, but it’s so easy to click a “Like” or a “Share” without really thinking about the message they are sending, and before you know it things are out of control and we’ve put a dictator wannabe in the bloody Oval Office!

(Sorry.  I’m still upset.)

There are those who ask why boomers are offended.  I mean, “ok boomer” is just a joke, right?  Well, yeah, but that same reasoning has been applied to how many derogatory labels.   (I read one comment that “Boomer” isn’t an ageist slur. Except it kinda is, y'know?)  And, again, it spreads and it gets blown out of proportion and there are those who are just ready to jump on a bandwagon - any bandwagon! - and the next thing you know, it’s trending on Twitter and we’ve got one more thing to get mad about that shouldn’t be anything at all because there are so many other things that we really should be mad about and trying to do something about…

Do you get my point?  

If someone of any generation gets on your last good nerve, by all means, express yourself.  (Short of violence, obviously.)  But ease up on projecting the “they’re all bad" mentality.  It isn’t true.  It doesn’t make anything easier.  And we’re all better than that.

Aren’t we?

[butternbeansohmy]

Before The Fall

lePairing: Aziraphale x Crowley/ Genre: Fluff & Angst/ Words: 6,986

Summary ---> 

Crowley tries to explain to Aziraphale what he remembers before the fall. God takes a moment to speak to Crowley.

I seem to have jumped onto the bandwagon that is Crowley as Raphael and I am actually very very pleased with what I've written. I also took inspiration from this lovely post ----> https://femmeaziraphale.tumblr.com/post/185875052879/shut-up-aziraphales-true-form-is-scary-as-fuck

You can also check my work out at AO3 ( Lexitennant2) or Fanfiction.net (leximia)

Crowley paused, looking down into the rich, red wine, as if it had the answers to the question. He squinted harder into the liquid, trying to think through the haze of a drunken stupor as to what the question even was, that his dear angel had asked.

" 'M sorry now, what did you say?" He slurred, allowing himself to sink even further into the soft, worn leather of the couch he had occupied for more than several decades in Aziraphale's bookshop.

"I asked, whether you remembered anything before the fall." Aziraphale said timidly, and definitely not as drunk as Crowley.

Crowley moved his gaze towards the angel and noticed immediately that the other had sobered up. He pondered for a moment if this situation would be better if he stayed drunk, or followed Aziraphale's steps into sober-dum. He decided on the latter, willing the alcohol out of his system, and took a minute to try and get rid of the awful aftereffects of said action.

"I suppose I remember just as much as anyone else does." Crowley told a half-lie, straightening up as much as a man of his form could do. It was enough to make Aziraphale raise an eyebrow at the no longer lounging snake, and more tense teenager with terrible posture.

Crowley had made a habit of not lying to the angel straight on. It made him feel horribly guilty afterwards, and he was a demon and should not be feeling guilty about lying to his ang- fri- adversary....oh who even knew anymore what the angel was to him.

As for a half-lie, Crowley was a demon so he couldn't be fully exempt from shying away from the truth - unless it was horrible truth that would bring upon misery - and this moment was no exception. He was certain that the other fallen remembered just as much as he did, but not more, for he was far older than them, and had done so much more. The memories from before the fall, before the garden, were stained into his brain forever. Being an immortal being, sometimes memories would disappear with a flicker and it would take some time to get them back, but there was no way he could ever forget what his life had been before.

There was nothing he could compare those memories to now.

Aziraphale miracled a mug of cocoa, and as a second thought, made one appear in front of Crowley on the table. A little coaster peaked out from around the bottom of the mug and Crowley regarded it apprehensively.

"Its not poisoned." Aziraphale said mildly, though a tad offended.

" 'Course not." Crowley made a big show of drinking from the mug to appease the angel, and let the hot liquid distract him from how Aziraphale was watching him with curious eyes.

When Crowley said nothing more, Aziraphale huffed a sigh.

"I was hoping you could talk to me about it dear."

"Talk about what?"

Aziraphale gritted his teeth with annoyance and drank some cocoa, aware of how Crowley was looking everywhere but him.

"Talk about what it was like before, who you were-"

"Why does it matter?" Crowley snapped, setting down the mug of cocoa harder than he needed to onto the table. "Why does it matter who I wasss before, or what I did, or any of that." He spat out, shoving his sunglasses more firmly over his eyes as they began to slide down during his tirade. "I am who I am now. Demon Crowley, no more no lessss." The hisses were becoming more and more pronounced the more worked up he became.

Aziraphale had opened his mouth several times to try and interrupt him, but when Crowley fell silent he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Crowley..." He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts, form a plan of how to approach the demon.

Aziraphale knew Crowley like the back of his hand. 6,000 years will give you that benefit. The demons emotions were coming at him from all different directions, irritation, hurt, fear, shame. Aziraphale cursed whomever made the first tinted glasses that hid Crowley's eyes from him; cursed the idiotic self righteous town folks that had almost burned Crowley at the stake.

In a bold and empowered move, and moving faster than even he knew he could, he got up from his chair and grabbed the sunglasses off of Crowley's face and contemplated throwing them across the room now that he had them, but submitted to just setting them down besides Crowley's cup of cocoa because he knew the demon was fond of his Valentinos, or whatever over priced, showy, brand they were.

Crowley's eyes were shocking up close, filled with even more emotion than his body language. It was like looking into the sun, bright yellow and painful. But Aziraphale loved those eyes as much as he loved the demons quick wit, and fiery red hair, and ridiculously thin body.

"My..You took my.." Crowley trailed off, stunned by the sudden turn of events. He should be mad, but instead all he could do was stare down at Aziraphale as blue eyes looked deeply into his own.

"Just tell me Crowley. I know it's painful for you, but it's better to let it out. And it doesn't matter per say who you were then but it would be nice to know dear. Please."

Crowley was a creature of habit. Yelling at his plants even though he'd long since scared them into submission; only Queen in his car (which was partially his own fault and not so much the Bentley's), and of course, not being able to turn away Aziraphale.

He reluctantly sat back down on the couch, suddenly aware of how close Aziraphale had been standing in front of him, and looked quickly at his sunglasses and tried a last ditch attempt to grab them, but Aziraphale was blocking them and suddenly he was sitting so close to Crowley that their knees were touching.

Crowley flicked his tongue out in a nervous habit, and stared at where their bodies met. He could see Aziraphale's hands twisting in his own nervous tell out of his peripheral vision, and Crowley tried to relax a bit. Which was quite hard given the topic of discussion they were about to dive into.

"I don't know if you'd remember, you were in a different sector than I, but Lucifer was very bright."

Aziraphale was looking at him dumbfounded. Crowley didn't know why he was starting his story this way either but it seemed to be coming from somewhere deep within and he just let it out. 6,000 + years and he'd never said anything besides a nonchalant "I asked to many questions," or "I just hung with the wrong people."

"I faintly remember." Aziraphale said unsure of himself. "It is true that as a principality I wasn't around you...or was I?"

Crowley shook his head and Aziraphale continued.

"I remember the fall quite well." Aziraphale stopped twisting his hands and Crowley pressed his knee closer to Aziraphale. This was as much his story as it was Aziraphale's. "Lucifer being bright? Not so much." He said bitterly.

Crowley huffed with sudden amusement.

"He was almost brighter than the damn sun at the time. He was warmth, and happiness, and he was filled with enough love to match God." He smiled slightly, the memories flowing back to him as if they'd never left. Aziraphale stiffened next to him.

"Surely not more than God herself." He stuttered.

"Close enough." Crowley said keeping himself in an amused state.

"Out of all of us, he was her favorite really, though she denied it from the beginning." He suddenly rose higher and straightened his spine, making his voice a soft, feminine, croon. "I have no favorites my dear child. I love all my creations equally."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. "Is that what she sounded like?"

Crowley looked at him confused.

"I have heard her before, back with the whole sword fiasco...but she never sounded so-"

"It was a long time ago angel." Crowley cut him off.

"Lucifer, being so bright, handsome, kind, the whole nine yards, was what drew us all to him. I guess I could claim I was second favorite, for she allowed me to make stars and nebulas and worlds of my own." He trailed off. "There's a reason I have such an affinity for Alpha Centauri you know?"

"You?!" Aziraphale jumped back a little in his seat. "You did that?"  There was such awe and wonder in his tone that Crowley could feel his corporeal form blush.

"Oh shush." He hissed lightly, motioning for the angel to calm down. "You can ooh and aah afterwards."

Aziraphale gave him a look that practically screamed I-do-not-ooh-and-aah, but returned to his previous spot, now with a little bit of their thighs touching added to the mix. Crowley decided to take it a step further and leaned back into the couch, throwing one arm along the back, so that if the angel just unclenched and let go, and leaned into the sofa, the demon could have his arm around him. Leaning further back also made sure there were no more gaps between their lowerhalfs.

"As I was saying," he pointedly stared at Aziraphale before focusing his attention on the mugs of cocoa - that were now long forgotten, " he had a certain light about him, even before we were given corporeal forms, that made him easy to trust. One day, almost out of nowhere, but it had probably been going on for much longer and we were too blind to see, his light had changed. It hurt to be around him now. He was still kind to us, and filled with warmth, but his light had changed so significantly that we were all becoming wary of him. He also began talking to other angels that he had never talked to before. He wouldn't give us straight answers when we asked him." Crowley wondered how he could convey to the angel through words how what Lucifer had been like back then. How it had been so easy to just get swept up in it all.

"I was always inquisitive as an angel, everything I made was made after asking myself a series of questions. So when She revealed her great plan, I of course asked questions."

"Wait." Aziraphale held up his hand. "She only told a few angels the great plan, the ineffable plan-"

"Not the same thing-"

"and they were archangels."

Crowley shrugged and looked into Aziraphale's eyes. They were the sort of blue that shifted from a deep lagoon blue, to a sort of green in the right lighting. Right now they were closer to the first option because the lighting in the shop was dim, but Crowley became lost in them all the same.

"You're an archangel." Aziraphale breathed out.

Crowley flinched. "Wasss. Was is the key word."

Aziraphale looked sheepish and offered up a sincere apology.

"I never would have thought, but I can see it now. I think I saw you once."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at this. He had spied the principality many times, often after he'd finished creating a new star he'd go to rest, regain his strength, and during those times he'd spy on the other angels. He had become infatuated - even more so now - with the angel that looked every bit of the stereotypical angel as one could. Soft white-blond curls, dazzling blue eyes, and soft, slightly rounded body. He had never been aware the other had ever seen him.

They were all rather close in the start, but as more and more angels were created, and God began to retreat, they stopped mingling outside their factions so Aziraphale and him had never had proper introductions.

Crowley had never even seen Aziraphale's true form, for God had given them corporeal bodies to match the new creations she was starting to make.

"I saw you once, watching me and the others. You had a look on your face that I- well- It'd be too forward of me to assume I know what that expression was but.." He trailed off and slowly brought one hand up to cup Crowley's cheek. The demon took in a breath he didn't need and all but melted into the soft hand that felt so warm on his face.

"Assume away angel." He trilled at the alliteration. The angel blushed and bit his lip as Crowley used the arm not laying on the back of the couch to wrap around the angels hand that was cupping his cheek, and tugged gently so the angel was curling into his side and their faces were only a few inches apart. Crowley moved his grip from the hand upward so his longer and slender fingers covered Aziraphale's smaller and pudgier ones.

"You were looking at me the way you are now." Aziraphale sounded breathless.

Crowley smiled slightly and curled the arm drapped over the back of the couch into Aziraphale's hair. His fingers sinking into the soft curls as Aziraphale's eyes fluttered at the contact.

"I only asked questions angel." His voice hitched and Aziraphale scooted closer, almost settling into Crowley's lap, his breath mingling with Crowley's.

"I took one look at Her plans and I couldn't stand it. I was supposed to be a healer for all and I was to do nothing as she tested them to destruction." His voice had acquired a whine that Aziraphale had never heard from the demon before. It was a sad whine that was asking Aziraphale why was he being punished for caring.

"She told me not to question her, that it was Her creation and how She knew what she was doing because she's God. But tell me angel, how were we supposed to love these creatures that she made in her image, and then sit back idly as they destroyed themselves. It is not in my nature to watch children be thrown away after they have served their purpose." Crowley's eyes were becoming glassy as he struggled not to let the tears out.

"I'm sure She didn't-"

"Oh ssshe did Aziraphale."

The use of his full name startled the angel slightly and he pulled Crowley close to him, so the demon's face was tucked in the crook of the angel's shoulder and neck. He breathed in sharply, taking in the smell of old books, vanilla, and something so utterly home that he let out a small sob. But only a small one as he was a demon now and demons did not cry.

Ten days after the apocalypse that wasn't, Crowley had found himself wondering about the great plan and the ineffable plan. The great plan had been the end of the world after 6,000 years, and he didn't want to think about it, but if he hadn't fallen, if he hadn't lost his rights to be an angel, an archangel, the great plan might have been the ineffable plan for their would not have been anymore days. But here they were, curled up together on the couch, Crowley spilling bits of his past to the celestial being that held a special place in his heart that no one else could occupy.

He didn't think he could ever forgive her for tossing him out, for tossing them all out. Lucifer may have become corrupted, absolutely unrecognizable now, but his light had never completely never gone away, just like Crowley's love for humanity and compassion for the hurt never dwindled. But it wasn't really his place to forgive Her. But in a way it was and it was all so confusing, because he'd been the betrayed one, not her. He hadn't done to her what Lucifer had done, but somehow he knew that he'd almost done worse by questioning her every move. He hadn't been outright about it, always asking the questions when they were alone, and he wondered if that had made it worse, rather than going the Lucifer route and shouting out to the world that he mistrusted her judgment.

"Out of all the questions I asked, there were only two that I could really contribute to my fall." He said softly into Aziraphale's neck as the angel rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Well, really there were multiple questions piled up onto each other that led to it all but there were two that I think really dug into Her."

"Why can't you forgive Lucifer? That one was right before the fall, as chaos rained in Heaven and everyone was fighting."

Aziraphale clutched him closer and Crowley felt a light kiss to his forehead.

"And the other?" Aziraphale prodded.

"You created them in your image- in our image," Crowley sounded as if he was reciting from a notecard, his voice dull, "what does that say about usss, that these creatures modeled after usss are to be tesssted to destruction." He fully sobbed now, letting the tears he'd pent in for thousands of years soak into Aziraphale's shirt. "Do you even really love usss?"

"Oh, Crowley." Was all Aziraphale could say, for his own faith had been shaken during the whole apocalypse, and here he was now with Crowley clinging to him, a tearful mess, unloading such heartache and hurt that the angel was filled with enough grief to fill another 6,000 years. He had never questioned God, happy to follow along with her plan, and even now he still believed in her, that even when she was cruel she was doing what was best for them. And he had the same thought that Crowley had, had much earlier in the day. That without the fallen, without Crowley losing his place in Heaven, there might really have been an end to the world.

"Can you say it?" Crowley pulled back and wiped away the wetness from his face with a shaky hand.

"Say what dear?" Aziraphale asked, not willing to let go of the demon now that they were finally embraced. It had been too long, much too long a wait. Aziraphale had himself to thank for that partially but he was done waiting now.

"Can you say my name?"

Aziraphale was confused for a moment before it dawned on him.

"Raphael."

The first time he said it Crowley flinched, looking ready to cry again. Aziraphale leaned in and placed gentle kisses to the demons cheeks, and then his nose and forehead. The demon moved his arms further down Aziraphale's body til they were holding Aziraphale's hips.

"Raphael."

The second time he said it, he maneuvered himself to straddle Crowley's lap, so they were in a more comfortable position, with Crowley's hands tightening on Aziraphale's hips, and Aziraphale cupping the back of Crowley's neck with one hand, the other wiping away a few stray tears before settling on the demons shoulder.

Aziraphale leaned forward slowly, his heart feeling as if it were going to leap out of his chest. His eyes never left Crowley as he pressed himself against the other. Their bodies touching everywhere. Soft upper body molding against the harsh and bony angles.

Their noses touched, just like the week before when Crowley had practically body slammed him agains the wall of the former church.

And as Aziraphale breathed out another "Raphael", their lips brushed. It was a chaste kiss, and simply much too short.

They both pulled away slightly, taking in this new change in their relationship.

"Angel?" Crowley's hands shook has they wrapped tighter around Aziraphale, slowly making their way up into his hair and around his waist.

"Crowley."

The name change was enough, and Crowley surged forward to capture Aziraphale's lips again. This kiss was filled with passion and lust that had been trapped for 6,000 years. Aziraphale clung to Crowley as the snake made absolutely wonderful sounds that made Aziraphale's corporeal form flash hot. Aziraphale clenched his eyes shut even tighter as his body all but exploded with a feeling he'd never experienced before. It was a warm feeling that was flaring from his lower belly, making him squirm in Crowley's lap.

There was a white flash behind his eyelids as he brushed against Crowley's cock and oh this is what humans felt.

Crowley was slipping his tongue into Aziraphale's mouth as the angel made opened his mouth to let out a soft sound that seemed to make Crowley hungry for more.

They could have been making out from anywhere between a few minutes to a few weeks. After all they were a celestial and an occult being and time didn't much matter anymore now that the the apocalypse had been thwarted.

Aziraphale pulled away reluctantly and smoothed the front of Crowley's suit where the angel had rumpled it up from grabbing it. "I just want you to know." He started, licking his lips, pleased as he saw Crowley's slitted eyes follow the movement.

"I'm not going to treat you any differently now that I know who you were. I know you Crowley, I know that deep down you're scared of my reaction, I'm not as oblivious as you think I am." Aziraphale cut Crowley off before the demon could object.

"But I love who you are now, not who you used to be." He softly kissed Crowley again, loving that hot rush he was starting to feel in his lower half. Staying celibate for 6,000 years, and just reading romance novels had definitely not prepared Aziraphale for the way his body was reacting to Crowley's.

"I love you too." The demon said against his lips. He frowned suddenly, and broke the kiss. "But don't expect me to say that all the time," he rushed, "I'm a demon, I don't do mushy." He said the word as if it were a nasty looking piece of gunk on the sidewalk.

Aziraphale gave a small laugh, the previous moments contradicting the huffy demons claim.

"Of course love." And Aziraphale pulled him back into a kiss.

It was later in the evening, the two were laying in bed, both flushed and pleased at the recent turn of events.

Crowley, true to the serpent side of him, was entwined around Aziraphale with a pleased hum vibrating throughout his entire body.

It was a true miracle that the bedroom that Aziraphale had squandered onto the floor above the bookshop had been dust free; but then again, the angel had expected the room to be in tip top shape and so it was.

Crowley was in that blissful place between being awake and sleeping when Aziraphale's voice floated out to him and he groaned.

"What is your obsession with this." He muttered into his lovers pale neck.

He at once regretted and didn't regret telling the angel about himself. While it had led to the best experience that Crowley had ever had before, Pandora's box was now open and unwilling to be shut.

"Well its just, I never saw Heaven the way you did. I was born into my corporeal form. She had decided before then that our other forms shouldn't be exposed as much. I have no clue what I look like or you. I was also separated from you, I didn't get to create parts of the universe, what was it all like?"

"Careful not to ask too many questions." Crowley teased, ignoring Aziraphale's worried look. He could joke about it now, he had 6,000 years to come to terms with what had happened.

"Creating was one of my favorite pastimes." Crowley pulled out of Aziraphale's embrace and flopped onto his back. He waited patiently for the angel to get the hint that he wanted to trade positions, and after a few minutes the angel cuddled up to Crowley, re-entwining their legs.

"It's hard to explain, but when I was creating I could feel each and every star or planet that I brought to life. The visions were in my head and then bam they were up in the air surrounding me, all kinds of colors and shapes and sizes." He frowned up at the ceiling as he thought back on those times. "Michael wasn't as excited to create as I was, and Gabriel was much as he is now, but I was thrilled to be given the task of making such beautiful things for all the angels to see."

He placed an absent-minded kiss onto the angels curls and lazily trailed his finger up and down Aziraphale's shoulder with the hand that was holding Aziraphale to him.

"As for my form well, it was much prettier than the other archangels." He puffed up slightly to Aziraphale's amusement.

"Lucifer, as I said before was always bright and beautiful, but I like to think I had a gentle beauty. Not overlooked, but only those who were deserving would know I was truly beautiful to behold." He continued with a fake air of haughtiness that made Aziraphale giggle.

"All the angels looked the same back then actually, we were all just various shades of light with little bits here and there that made us different. Michael was a pale blue light and she had these enormous looking antlers that hovered over her eyes. I guess to a human seeing us would be horrifying, but having multiple eyes was and little extra bits was to show our status, our celestial worth."

"So, we're all just balls of light with billions of eyes and extra bits?" Aziraphale wrinkled his nose.

Crowley laughed. "Believe me, it's a beautiful sight." He allowed a big smile to cross over his face, and oh boy was he over his quota for smiling. " I was a bright red light, not this darker maroon red that my hair is now, but a proper fiery red, and I had billions of golden eyes and two small wings." He squeezed the angel tighter to him.

"Gabriel used to always be jealous of my little wings. He was all purple, his light, his eyes, and he had a tail similar to a lions. Would have done anything to trade me for my wings, though even now I don't really understand why."

"You sounded lovely." Aziraphale said smoothly, stretching himself up a bit so he could gently kiss Crowley.

Crowley hummed into the kiss and they stayed like that for a few minutes, before Crowley felt Aziraphale's finger prodding at the tattoo right by where his side burns would be if he had any.

"I've noticed that some of the demons have creatures on their heads. You can turn into a snake, but Beelzebub has a fly on their head, and that nasty Hastur has a frog on his."

"Its a kind of irony I suppose." Crowley shrugged with some difficulty. "Some of the angels helped God create the creatures in the Garden. Except Hastur. He was quite fond of the frogs, didn't actually help create them but formed a sort of attachment to them and well, now he's got one on his head and he eats whatever flies fall off of Beelzebub." Crowley shuddered at that.

"Do you know their names? Their true names." Aziraphale asked quietly.

"I know Beelzebub's. They used to be Gadreel. The one that everyone thinks really tempted Eve. I guess all that matters is I was given the proper credit from my superiors. Never understood how the humans credited Gadreel to it but, they saw a fallen angel and chose him. I'm technically not fallen to them." He said bitterly. "I'm still up there with Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, the rest of them, creating more universes or something."

They stayed quiet for a moment, and Crowley must have gone back to sleep because when he woke it was dark outside his window, when it had just been early morning. What had woke him was a weird prickling on the back of his neck, and he snapped his head to look down at Aziraphale, and was startled to see that the angel was completely passed out. The angel had never been one for sleeping, claiming that he could do much more worthwhile things than sleep, but here he was snoring away.

Crowley never thought he would find snoring cute until his angel gave a little snore.

The prickling was intensifying and he slowly untangled himself from the angel, wanting to find the source of his unease. It was a feeling so very familiar, yet so forgotten that it scared him. He slid out of the bed and padded quietly out of the room, down the stairs, and hesitated at the doorway of the kitchen. The light was on, and the feeling intensified even more.

He suddenly wished he still had the tire iron he'd salvaged from the Bentley to use as a weapon as he stepped into the kitchen.

His snake eyes took a moment to adjust to the harsh brightness of the kitchen lights that he could have sworn were much dimmer, before he focused on the fact the light was coming from the being that was sitting on one of the mismatched chairs Aziraphale had salvaged from possibly the 14th century- it was uncomfortable and dull enough to be from then.

The being of light dimmed and suddenly he was facing a middle aged woman..or well no a teenage girl- his eyes closed shut of their own violation as he felt a dizzy spell coming upon him. The beings was flicking through faces faster than he could keep up.

There was a soft throat clearing that boomed in the small kitchen and he opened his eyes cautiously.

The dimmed kitchen lights didn't do justice for the woman in front of him. She had finally settled on a form he was very familiar with. He could sense underneath the corporeal form that she had taken who it was.

God was sitting in the kitchen of his lover and if that wasn't the start to some weird metaphor for life Crowley wasn't sure what was.

She had chosen a form that to any one else would have made them think she was Crowley's mother. Well she was, in a way, but they had never looked as similar as they did now. She was middle aged, with smile lines and crows feet. Her face wasn't as gaunt as his, but she was still slender and dressed simply in a lavender colored tux. Her red hair was the same shade as his, and curled neatly around her shoulders, and her eyes were as warm and golden as his used to be.

"Hello." She said softly.

Crowley wondered if he was having a heart attack. His demonic form normally wasn't usually influenced by his corporeal form, but he'd been going native for a long time so he wouldn't be surprised if his body keeled over right now and Aziraphale would have to call a human healer for him. Imagine that, the first healer not even being able to heal himself.

"Won't you sit." She commanded more than asked. The chair closest to him backed up a few inches and he almost fell into it.

"I think we should talk." She began.

"Talk?" He squeaked out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I think the time for talking is way overdue."

An expression flitted over her face, but it was gone seconds before he could decipher it.

"Now Rapha-"

"Crowley." He interjected, not caring that he could be smited for his rudeness, or maybe she'd make him fall again. He didn't think that was possible, but this was God.

"Crowley." She pushed her tongue against her teeth as if tasting the word before nodding her head. "I know you have not forgiven me for what I have done, and I'm not here for forgiveness. It will be a long time for what I did to you to truly be forgiven. Crowley."

Crowley sat in the chair stunned.

She waved her hand and two cups of tea sat before them, wisps of translucent smoke curling up from the small china cups.

God took a delicate sip from hers before putting it back on the table.

Crowley didn't want to bother with his, but she was looking at him expectantly so he took a sip just as delicate.

"I'm sure now, that you have thought about the connection between the fall and the great plan." She took another sip of her tea and Crowley remained silent.

"I had to do what I thought was right for the future of creation. The fact that you questioned me once I shared my plan hurt a lot Crowley."

Crowley felt himself become angry, but with one look from her he stayed silent.

"My plan was supposed to be built on trust. But I was misleading myself for trust needs to go both ways. By not explaining everything I caused duress within my children, I caused the fall without even really meaning to." Her eyes were boring into his soul it felt - if he still had one - but he couldn't contain his anger for much longer.

"Then why couldn't you just bloody tell us what was really happening! You lead me to believe that you would kill your creations!" He was shouting but he couldn't care less if it woke up Aziraphale. If the angel were here maybe he'd finally understand what Crowley had gone through.

"You and your ineffable plan." He was practically hissing now, knocking the chair back as he stood.

"All your plans, the great one, the ineffable one, if you had answered any of my questions back then with the truth I would still be up there and not here." The anger was trailing out of him and all he felt was tired, this argument was useless. What was done to him had happened so many years ago that he knew deep in his heart that if God offered him a second chance, he would not take it.

"But you can already see Crowley." She spoke calmly, as if he hadn't just shouted at her.

"Sssee what." Crowley hissed. Oh great, even she had gotten him so worked up he was fucking hissing.

"That without you falling, without you being able to give Eve the apple, and meeting Aziraphale, none of this would exist. I know you miss the stars and all you have created, but there would be no world as it is now if you had not been up here with your angel."

Crowley allowed a quick pout before he scratched at the back of his neck.

He hadn't been aware until now that he was only in black boxers and socks that had little succulents on them. He knew it mattered not to God what he was dressed as be he was longing for his sunglasses to appear on his face, and for proper skinny jeans and a silk shirt to cover him up under her gaze that peeled layers away from him.

Something about being in the vicinity of her love again was draining him - also the yelling and pent up emotions of talking to God - and he doubted he had the energy to miracle up clothes and his glasses, so he crossed his arms trying to cover as much of his body as he could.

"That may be very well true." He admitted begrudgedly. "But to make us fall, there wasn't any other way? It hurt so much." He had a pleading edge in his voice, trying to make her understand.

She stood up, the cups of tea vanishing as she made her way to him. He tried to take a step back but she was suddenly nose to nose with him and he couldn't retreat. She made herself slightly taller and wrapped her arms around him in such a loving and warm embrace that he cried for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

His hand hung limply at his sides as she muttered unintelligible words into his ear, words that left him shuddering.

Finally, he raised his arms and returned her embrace loosely, and tilted his head so it was tucked under her chin.

"There was no other way, no other outcome that would not result in the end of this world. Even I am not as powerful as my creations sometimes." She pulled back to give him a knowing look, and he faintly wondered if this was her first time around.

"I'm so very sorry Crowley. Please know that I love you all very much, no matter how far gone some are than others." Her smile was bitter now and he knew who she was referring to.

"My time here is up, so please remember that I am always here, watching and loving you from afar. There is nothing I can do to make up for what I have done my star maker, but please know that I am always here. I will see you again." The last words were said with a heavy finality, and Crowley felt himself missing her warmth when she stepped away from him.

He knew that he couldn't forgive her yet, maybe not ever, at least not fully. But he wouldn't mind talking to her again, questioning her again. It was almost as if he hadn't fallen and they were back in Heaven.

"I don't understand mother, if these humans are to be made in our image, then why do they look like that?"

"Because soon you will look like them too. I have decided to give you corporeal forms, easier for you to feel everything I imagine."

"Are you not going to take a corporeal form?"

God chuckled and suddenly a hand landed on Raphael's new form. "I am every form for I am God."

Raphael nodded for this made sense to him.

"I am very proud of the latest creation you have made, you're taking after me." A blinding smile is turned towards him and he feels a wave of love.

"What did you name it?"

"Alpha Centauri."

Crowley let's her kiss her forehead and soon she's gone, the kitchen empty and silent. The light is off and he whispers into the darkness, a soft and sad "goodbye mother."

He stretches, his back cracking and he saunters over to the fridge, his body moving in the familiar pattern of swinging his hips as if he is still in snake form. A habit he has not kicked in 6,000 years of being in a human form. He opens the fridge, his eyes scanning the endless shelves of food, drinks, and condiments that had been miracled to be there if ever the angel wanted a snack, which was often.

Many of their nights drinking were accompanied by Aziraphale digging into the fridge and pulling out something salty or sweet.

His eyes caught on a milk bottle that had hardly any milk left inside and he shrugged to himself. He uncapped it, preparing to pour it into his mouth when he became aware of another presence. For a second he thought it was God again, for he felt a strong wave of love coming his way, but when he turned to the doorway of the kitchen where the presence was coming from, he almost dropped the milk bottle out of shock.

A brilliant golden blob of light was illuminating the doorway and part of the kitchen. More than twenty eyes were turned towards him and staring unblinkedly with a familiar deep lagoon blue, with a tinge of lighter green. Aziraphale had a crown of flames above him and Crowley fell for the angel for the second time.

"My dear boy, this is the final time you drink straight from the carton." Aziraphale said in a disembodied voice.

He was probably trying to sound foreboding, but the waves of light that were unfiltered in this form killed the affect.

Crowley stiffled a laugh. "Angel, I don't think the effect you're going for is working."

The angel huffed, and all of his eyes rolled upwards.

"And why in the world are you like this?" Crowley motioned with his arm in an up and down movement towards the being.

"Well you were not in bed, and I was thinking back to what you said. I was curious...and I thought something might have happened to you." The angel admitted.

"So you felt the need to try and scare me half to death by trying out your true form?" Crowley walked closer, not bothered by the brightness of Aziraphale. He stopped in front of the angel and allowed himself to look at his angel with all the fondness and adoration that he could muster.

All the eyes went to half mast as Crowley let a little bit of his true self appear and brush against Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was suddenly back in his human form, the kitchen light flicking on not that either of them really needed it to.

He was looking softer than ever, in an old fashioned white nightgown that nobody had worn since the 17th century and looking at Crowley sleepily. Crowley's heart was filled with enough love that it easily matched with Aziraphale's. He scooped the angel into his arms, his sharper body sinking easily into the plusher parts of the angel.

"Were you really down here for milk?" Aziraphale asked quietly, his eyes still half closed as Crowley kissed a pathway down his forehead, to the tip of his nose, and finally to his lips.

"Let's go back to sleep angel." Crowley ignored the question.

Maybe he would tell the angel one day what had transpired, but for now he was more than happy to just follow the love of his life back up the stairs and into the bed.

While he cradled Aziraphale to his chest, he felt a soft pressure running through his hair, as if someone was running their fingers through it. He pushed back into the disembodied touch for a bit before curling closer around Aziraphale, finally letting sleep over come him.

[esglatestmarketnews]

The Future of ESG in the Online Grocery Industry

Grocery CEOs, consumers and grocers envisage online shopping as the next big thing, spurred by technological advancements and greater convenience. The COVID-19 onslaught was partly attributed to online grocery flooding the market. While leading players and startups jumped on the bandwagon, ESG watchdogs were wary of the sustainable impact the industry would have on the planet. Stakeholders are expected to harness gender equality, fair wages, waste reduction, responsible sourcing of farm produce and sound corporate governance. 

The ease of browsing, getting items ticked off and quick delivery have been a revelation—a delivery service delivering to multiple homes has negated the need to drive to the store. More than 17 million metric tons of CO2 pollution are attributed to weekly household trips to the grocery store, a report cited by the U.S. EPA claimed. Incumbent players have furthered investments in electric vehicles (EVs) to offset greenhouse gas emissions. In April 2022, India-based Swiggy, a food delivery company, joined forces with EVIFY to enable grocery and food delivery through EVs in Surat, Gujarat. 

Industry leaders are likely to emphasize upstream transportation (farm-to-retail) and foster last-mile transportation—pushing for deliveries and offsetting personal trips. Centralized grocery delivery services and fulfillment centers have brought a paradigm shift in minimizing GHG emissions and food loss. State-of-the-art technologies, including predictive analytics, can provide the silver bullet to prevent pilferage and streamline sourcing. Besides, boosting access to affordable and high-quality fresh food, along with the focus on diversity, integrity and transparency, will remain instrumental for a circular economy.  Learn more about the practices & strategies being implemented by industry participants from the Online Grocery Industry ESG Thematic Report, 2023, published by Astra ESG Solutions Kroger and BigBasket Invest in Climate Strategy for a Sustainable Future The online retail boom and an emphasis on speed and user experience—instant delivery—have disrupted e-commerce business models. Brands with sustainability strategies appeared resilient during the COVID-19 outbreak, banking on online shopping to conserve raw materials and minimize GHG emissions. Kroger is poised to establish a new Scope 3 goal for supply chain emissions reduction in line with its Science Based Targets initiative (SBTi) commitment. The American retail giant has set 2030 sustainable packaging goals, such as using 100% recyclable, reusable and/or compostable packaging.

Amidst emerging climate risks and opportunities, Kroger inferred using infrared refrigerant leak-detection technology in 2,000 stores. Meanwhile, in 2021, Bigbasket, a TATA Enterprise-owned online grocery retailer, teamed up with New Leaf Dynamic to install a biomass-powered chiller that can save 186 tons of CO2 annually. The Indian giant cited in its Green Report 2022 that it produced 5,457,000 kWh of solar power (reducing 1,670 tons of GHG emissions) in 2022 and 5,458 electric delivery vehicles helped minimize 7012 tons of CO2 emissions during the period. 

Amazon Fresh Navigates Changing Social Landscape  Amidst rampant layoffs and the prevalence of workplace injuries, grocery warehouses and fulfillment centers have prioritized the social pillar. In January 2023, Amazon announced over 18,000 job cuts, denting workers across industry verticals, including grocery stores. People employed as supply chain managers, program managers, software engineers and store designers bore the brunt in online grocery delivery and fresh stores businesses. That said, the American behemoth inferred in May 2023 that it had poured CDN 25 billion since 2010 in its Canadian operations, including job creation and establishment of data centers and fulfillment centers. In September 2021, the U.S. giant committed USD 1.2 billion to offer 300,000 employees education and skills training programs till 2025. 

Incumbent players have upped investments to make the workplace safer and foster a healthy environment. Amazon has a team of health coordinators, physiotherapists and advisors. The occupational doctors perform medical checks and report trends in major risk areas. 

The U.S. e-commerce company has augmented diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts to underscore its sustainability quotient. In 2021, it committed to a 30% rise year over year in hiring U.S. black employees in level 4 through level 7 from the preceding year’s hiring. The multinational company warrants 100% of employees to take inclusion training. 

Is your business one of participants to the Online Grocery Industry? Contact us for focused consultation around ESG Investing, and help you build sustainable business practices Governance Key for Relentless Sustainable Goals of Rakuten and Walmart Sound corporate behavior is second to none for an agile business process and an inclusive global system that complements ethical business practices. Rakuten creates a list of ESG themes with the assistance of external experts and refers to the UN Sustainable Development Goals and Sustainability Accounting Standards Board (SASB) Materiality Map.

The Japanese company has appointed Chief Compliance Officer (CCO) to undergird compliance management. It has banked on a risk-based approach to define high-risk issues and implement measures, such as prevention of money laundering and terrorist financing; prohibition of bribery and corruption; and adherence to competition, antitrust and other related laws. 

Rakuten has propelled board diversity—outside directors account for 58.3% of the BoD, while 25% are foreign directors. Meanwhile, Walmart expects Board members to disclose their race/ethnicity and gender annually. Its board had 27% women and 18% directors who are racially/ethnically diverse (as of April 2023). 

Millennials and Gen Z want the e-commerce sector to foster social contributions, operate in a responsible supply chain and bolster transparency. ESG reporting could be pronounced, prompting online incumbents to further their investments in sustainability. Grand View Research anticipates the global online grocery market size to depict upward growth through 2030. Investments in the circular economy can create momentum and be a differentiating factor in an ever-growing competition in the online grocery business. 

About Astra – ESG Solutions by Grand View Research Astra is the Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) arm of Grand View Research Inc. – a global market research publishing & management consulting firm.

Astra offers comprehensive ESG thematic assessment & scores across diverse impact & socially responsible investment topics, including both public and private companies along with intuitive dashboards. Our ESG solutions are powered by robust fundamental & alternative information. Astra specializes in consulting services that equip corporates and the investment community with the in-depth ESG research and actionable insight they need to support their bottom lines and their values. We have supported our clients across diverse ESG consulting projects & advisory services, including climate strategies & assessment, ESG benchmarking, stakeholder engagement programs, active ownership, developing ESG investment strategies, ESG data services, build corporate sustainability reports. Astra team includes a pool of industry experts and ESG enthusiasts who possess extensive end-end ESG research and consulting experience at a global level.

For more ESG Thematic reports, please visit Astra ESG Solutions, powered by Grand View Research